Angel Blessed (Angel Caste Book 5)

by K S Nikakis

  ‘I hadn’t planned to, but we can try. Some of the runs might have fallen in, or been blocked, or have shiny new grates.’ Baraghan smiled humourlessly. ‘There are hatches though, and I suspect most of Astraal’s citizens will be more interested in joining their venerable forebears than beating us up again.’

  ‘We hope,’ muttered Ataghan.

  * * *

  Thris was rigid as he watched the shore recede. Daimon caste rowers propelled the craft towards the lake’s centre, carrying the Archae he’d met last night. Other craft followed, crowded with daimon caste of all ages. He stared up at the halls and sensed for Viv, but felt nothing. The snow-capped peak soared behind them, gilded by the new sun, its glorious image reflected on the lake’s still surface. Archae Thero said the lake fed eight mighty rivers from its crystal depths and Thris peered down. The water was clear but so deep, could see no bed.

  His thoughts turned to Ky labouring away in the Bokos, to Ash in the Blue Helixai’s heart, and to the uncounted angels, Dane and Archae, who lived their lives under Ezam’s gentle skies. And he thought of Viv too, a prisoner as he was, of those whose hearts were full of a self-centred greed.

  ‘Do you feel anything, Thrisdane?’ demanded Archae Thero.

  Thris chiefly felt fear but it wasn’t what the Archae wanted to know. ‘There’s a fine vibration which tells of a rift, but rifts can only be transited at their very centre. The centre is what I must now find.’ The Archae murmured excitedly but Thris kept his focus on the rift.

  ‘Stop here,’ he said, as the vibration intensified. The rowers worked the oars expertly to keep the craft still, and he concentrated on the vibration. It was likely he’d transited to the Bokos from here but he had no memory of it.

  ‘The rift that takes us to Ezam is here, Thrisdane?’

  ‘I sense so, but no angel can be absolutely certain where a rift exits.’

  ‘Wait,’ ordered Archae Thero, and strode to the far end of the craft. He spoke to those there and strode back. ‘You will lead. Once the Archae have entered safely, I have instructed those of lesser Angellus blood to follow.’

  ‘The rift is perilous, Archae. I ask that—’

  The Archae’s pale eyes flashed in the early morning light. ‘You will lead, Thrisdane.’

  Thris stepped from the craft into the rift. The iridescent walls swirled around him as usual and he was aware of the Archae strung out behind him. And then, without warning, he was pitched sideways. He regained his balance but the rift whipped this way and that, and he was thrown again. He fought to stay upright as the iridescent walls rushed by, and then there was a blast of icy air and a foul stench. He screwed his head back and was horrified to see he was alone. The rift creaked, and he heard the roar of water, but the rift swept him on. He should have exited by now, he realised in terror.

  * * *

  Ash jerked upright as the vision of Thris faded. Something had changed. The Blue Helixai’s sweet music had been replaced by a rhythmic beat, softer than wood against wood, and harder than an angel’s wing in flight. He slid from the slab and stared down in confusion as the sound echoed up through his feet, then hastened down the tunnel to an opaque pool.

  He’d never seen their surfaces other than still, but this one rippled in time to the beat, as if disturbed at regular intervals. It was the drip of water, he realised abruptly, amplified hundreds of times, and he sprinted to the cavern’s mouth and took to the air. The beat was louder in the Bokos, as if its curved walls prevented escape, and Ashdane raced down its passageways.

  Prime-archae Serith looked up at his approach and Ash hurriedly bowed and palmed. ‘You’re needed,’ murmured Serith. ‘Kydane’s at the Bokos’s heart with Prime-archae Mirek, but what lies ahead isn’t the work of a Prime-archae, or of a single angel.’

  Ash flew, his wing-span a perfect fit for the space between the shelves and when he saw the shadowy outlines of Prime-archae Mirek and Ky ahead, came to ground, ankle deep in icy water.

  ‘Ash!’ cried Ky, in relief.

  ‘I fear the rift is breached,’ said Mirek. Immense drops of water appeared from the darkness above and reverberated as they joined the water on the Bokos’s floor. ‘It’s what Senquar-archae warned of.’

  Ash peered up. ‘Thris is there,’ he said softly. ‘He’s trapped.’

  Ky gave an anguished cry. ‘We must go to him!’

  ‘Disturb the rift further and it might rupture,’ warned Mirek. ‘Ezam could be destroyed.’

  ‘I’ll not abandon, Thris,’ said Ky. ‘I’ll go alone, if needs be.’

  ‘What lies ahead isn’t the work of a single angel,’ murmured Ash, as if he spoke to himself. ‘With respect, Prime-archae Mirek, you must plan for Ezam’s inundation. Tell the Host to seek the Thorny Mountains or Helixai.’ Mirek nodded, and hurried away.

  ‘Those who disturbed the rift have gone,’ said Ash.

  ‘Gone where?’ demanded Ky wildly.

  ‘Red mountains rise, red mountains fall, a home for bears and angel Halls.’

  ‘Redice Fold! But Thris wouldn’t …’

  ‘They forced him,’ said Ash, and gripped Ky’s arms. ‘They used love as a weapon against him, but we must use it to heal the rift.’

  ‘But how?’ cried Ky.

  ‘Senquar-archae, Anasdane, Paendane did it before and Senquar-archae left warnings behind.’

  ‘Behind from where? You found Senquar-archae’s bones in the Green Helixai. I don’t want to end like that, Ash!’

  ‘He didn’t end there. Had you visited the Green Helixai, you would have been shown something different. The Green Helixai reminded me we’re flesh, Ky, not just ether; that love isn’t reserved for the Great Beyond, but given freely to each other, and for each other.’

  Ky’s eyes were wide with fear. ‘You’ll stay with me, Ash?’

  ‘Always,’ whispered Ash, and together they leapt into the darkness.

  Chapter 30

  Viv watched the first barge empty, followed by the second, and third. Thris was gone, but at least he was safe, and her beloved father was about to have his peace and quiet well and truly disrupted. Astraali’s remaining citizens watched too, scattered in small groups along the terraces that rimmed the lake. There weren’t many who’d chosen to stay, despite the city’s beauty, and Astraal was beautiful, with its fine decorative buildings, snow-capped peak, and perfect lake.

  Time to go. Viv reached for her pack, glanced back to the lake, and gasped. The waters had darkened and she stared skywards, expecting a storm-cloud to have materialised above, but the sky remained clear. Then as she watched, the lake’s surface roiled into white-capped waves. They rose in mighty crests and tossed the barges about like leaves. The spectators fled as water surged over the lower terraces and water-spouts danced, spattering the window glass with foam.

  God in Heaven! There was someone in the water! A wing flapped, like an injured bird, and was sucked out of sight. Viv flung open the door and ran. The guard yelled but there was no sound of pursuit as if he were suddenly aware of the mayhem below. Viv wrenched off her pack and jacket as she took the stairs two at a time and when she burst from the building, tore off her boots, and took to the air.

  Ataghan shouted as she launched from the steps, but she gave no sign of having heard. He sheltered with Baraghan in a column’s lee, as water whipped from the lake to be thrown back as hard as gravel. This storm belonged to Soaich, but it touched nothing but the lake.

  ‘Wings,’ gasped Baraghan behind him. ‘She has wings! That’s a surprise, at least to me.’

  Ataghan barely heard him, his attention on the elddra. She wove between the water-spouts, her wings flashing like metal as they caught the sun, but then she swooped low, oblivious to the clashing waves. There was someone in the water, and Ataghan yanked off his jacket, shirt, and boots.

  ‘You’re not going in after her, are you?’ cried Baraghan in alarm.

  Ataghan dashed the rain from his eyes. The squalls dulled her wings but he saw her struggle
to lift someone, and then two waves soared skywards, clashed in an explosion of glass-grey water, and she was gone. Ataghan ran, and Baraghan cursed and ran too, towards the docks where there might be rope.

  Ataghan plunged into the lake, and ploughed through the icy water. Waves broke over him, blinded him, dragged him back, tried to drag him under. He focused on where the lake had taken her, reached the spot, and dived. She was a long way down, perilously close to a translucent maelstrom. His brain screamed at him to turn back to the world above, to flee the twisting column that threatened to devour him, but he kept going, caught her wrist, and dragged her back to the surface.

  Her violet eyes were stark against her white skin, her gasps for air punctuated by sobs for the Angellus, and she struggled in his grip, as she tried to dive again. He only had one weapon and he used it. ‘Ilris! Fariye needs you! Stay with me!’ Waves buffeted them and squalls slashed like whips. ‘Ilris!’ He shook her. ‘Stay with me!’

  Her eyes focused on him, filled with despair, but he knew he had her, and struck out for shore, keeping a grip on her hand. She swam too but it was exhausting, the waves battering them and the fume starving them of air. And then, when he could go no further, a rope slapped onto the water beside him, he gripped it, and Baraghan hauled them in.

  As soon as he could stand, Ataghan swung her into his arms, staggered up the steps, and collapsed in the column’s shelter. She’d curled into him, face buried in his chest, as if she could bear the world no longer, and he tightened his arms around her. ‘Ilris,’ he said, and kissed the top of her head, uncaring that Baraghan saw, then rested his head back against the pillar and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Ash gripped Ky’s hand as the rift flung them against its walls. Rifts were silent, but this one roared, and its sides billowed as if some monstrous creature sucked the air from around it, then spat it back.

  ‘We’re going to drown,’ shouted Ky, above the racket.

  Ash feared he was right and then Ky shrieked as the rift wall split. Water gushed in but the rent sealed again and Thris lay gasping on the floor. He blinked up at them in shock and they cried with joy as they hauled him into their arms.

  The rift’s violence lessened and as the roar dimmed, a calmness settled over Ash. He knew what they must do but he had no time to explain it, nor the words.

  ‘Hold to me,’ he whispered. They pressed against each other chest to chest, arms entwined, white-flecked bronze and black wings enfolded by Ash’s white wings of transcendence.

  ‘The trinity,’ murmured Ky, calm suddenly.

  ‘The love of three friends,’ said Thris simply.

  ‘The one,’ said Ash, ‘with the strength of three to mend the breach.’

  Together they pushed their love outwards, a potent mix of angel essence, of spirit, of physical strength. They used their sweet angel breath to succour each other, but the strain was enormous and Ky the first to fail. Ash and Thris knew the moment his heart stopped but neither faltered, and the rift began to mend. Ash knew when Thris’s heart fell silent too, and he cradled him as he cradled Ky, his arm under his shoulders as he fell away, his wings like drifts of snow. And it was Ash alone who felt the last rainbow threads knit, and the rift become whole again.

  * * *

  Viv heard the sudden silence and turned her head. The lake was perfectly still, only the wet terraces hinting at the tempest they’d endured. The Syld held her and Baraghan sat beside him but nobody spoke as they stared at the lake. A ripple woke at its centre and slid in an expanding silver circle to shore. A second ripple followed as a turquoise angel emerged from the lake, brilliant white wings outstretched. He cradled an angel to either side, one black-haired, one bronze-haired, both snow-winged. Thris and Ky, and even from a distance, Viv knew they were dead.

  The turquoise angel hung above the lake, his massive white wings outstretched, but motionless, and then there was an explosion of stars so brilliant Viv threw up her hand against the glare. The Syld and Baraghan did too, and when she looked again, the angels were gone.

  She struggled upright but her legs buckled, and only the Syld’s quick reaction stopped her hitting the stone. He kept his arm around her but she shivered violently, as did he.

  ‘Get her some dry clothes, and yourself, Ataghan,’ ordered Baraghan. ‘And food would be good too. I image there’s plenty lying around in Astraal Hall. I don’t want to have to heal you two when I’ve a new home to explore.’

  They collected their packs and cast-off clothes and the Syld led her to a deserted building to change. He was leaning against the wall when she emerged, his gaze on the lake, but turned. His face was purple with bruising and he had a gash above one eye, and she wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘Feeling warmer?’ he asked. ‘I’ve found some food. Best to eat theirs and save ours for the journey back.’

  ‘I hate them.’

  ‘They’re gone now, or most of them,’ he said evenly. ‘I want to be gone too. Come and eat. Fariye’s waited too long to see you.’ She sat beside him and ate, but was too numb to feel any joy, even at the prospect of seeing Poss.

  Baraghan found them as they finished. He’d been beaten too, she noted, and wore his arm in a sling. ‘Sure you don’t want to join me, Syld?’ he said. ‘Plenty of opportunities here.’ Astraali emerged from their compounds, many grey-haired, but Baraghan’s head swiveled as a young auburn-haired woman hurried past.

  ‘I have a home to go to,’ said the Syld rising.

  They embraced and Baraghan bowed formally to Viv. ‘Farewell Violet Iris Vacia, until we meet again. You’ll always be most welcome to visit.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Viv, but couldn’t dredge up a smile.

  The Syld took her hand as they started down the steps, because she was unsteady, but she mainly felt empty. Thris had transcended, with Ky and Ash, which was what he’d always wanted, what every angel wanted, but what were stars? Just jagged pieces of cold fire. She wanted Thris’s warmth, and smile, and scent; the feel of his arms, his strong heartbeat. She wanted him back.

  No one guarded the gate but she was glad to get through it and into the trees. ‘We’ll set camp early while it’s still light. There’s a good site close to the detritus tunnels,’ said the Syld. ‘Then we need to decide whether to take the long or the short route to the Scinta-ril.’ He still held her hand, his touch the only thing that stopped her sliding into the abyss inside. Enesha had told her to stay with the living but Thris had gone and she wanted to follow.

  The camp site was hidden amongst the branches of a huge tree that had toppled over but continued to grow. The Syld called it a koachar, and he set a fire where its leafy branches arched over them to create a living hall. The Syld heated urrut-sa, and sliced cheese onto chunks of retsen for her, and Viv nodded her thanks. It was as if the abyss inside had eaten her voice. The Syld seemed content to eat in silence too and afterwards, to pack away the food and pitch the maark. She sat and watched the fire burn low and knew when Horse Zadic lit the sky but didn’t look up.

  ‘Ilris?’ He was crouched in front of her and she started. ‘Time to sleep.’

  She nodded and went into the maark. He’d set her sleeping-cover like last time, separated from his, and she sat on it and pulled off her boots. He followed her in, the fire’s glow lighting him as he removed his jacket and shirt, then his boots. Then he flipped the cover over himself, and glanced across.

  ‘Aren’t you going to lie down?’ The fire glow lit the planes of his face, Rim and Sehereden’s, men she’d loved, and she looked away. ‘I’m sorry about Thrisdane,’ he said.

  ‘It’s what he wanted.’

  ‘And what do you want, Ilris?’

  ‘To listen to your heart; to know you’re not dead too.’ She kept her eyes on the cover, knowing it was a ridiculous thing to say.

  He shuffled over to her. ‘Listen away,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m well and truly alive.’

  She lowered her head until her ear rested against his
chest. His heart beat was strong and even, his skin subtly sweet, and she lay her hand against his chest, feeling its warmth. She wanted life, not death, and brought her mouth to his. He didn’t recoil but nor did he return the kiss.

  ‘This is not a good time for you, Ilris. You want comfort, not—’

  It’s what Sehereden had once said and the rejection was the same; a knife-slash, as rejection always was. ‘It’s not about that, is it, Syld?’ she retorted. ‘You won’t gift me what you gifted half the women in Esh-accom because I’m a stinking elddra!’ She scrambled from the maark and would have strode off if she’d had her boots. He burst from the maark behind her, still naked to the waist and bare-footed. ‘I’m still here, Syld,’ she said. ‘I haven’t ruined your deal with Ithreya—yet.’

  He came right up to her, his face clothed in its familiar anger. ‘I’ve wanted you a long time, Ilris, and never so much as now. Do you think the women who gift themselves to the tournament champion compare to you in any way at all? To your beauty? To your trueness of heart? To your selflessness in keeping my daughter alive, not once but twice?’ Heat pulsed from his skin and he prowled around the fire and stopped on the other side. ‘You don’t know what you mean to me,’ he said hoarsely. ‘How much I never want to hurt you again.’ He paced up and down, fighting for control. ‘I have to be sure this is something you really want, not the result of seeing the Angellus you loved, die today.’

  Viv was too taken aback to say anything. The firelight revealed the bruises that blackened his ribs, and the gouge marks on his back. ‘It is what I want, but you might be in too much pain. I hadn’t realised the extent of the Astraali’s hate.’

  ‘Elddric heal quickly.’

  On the outside, she added silently. He came back around the fire, his intensity making her heart quicken, and stopped in front of her, very close. His eyes glittered in the firelight as he smoothed the curls from her face and the backs of his fingers continued down her cheek to her neck.

  He didn’t speak as he repeated the gesture, his fingers lingering on her ear lobes this time before stroking her neck. He lowered his head but didn’t kiss her and she was bathed in his breath, his elddric blood making it subtly sweet, like his skin. She ran her fingers down the ridged muscles of his torso as she savoured the sense of him, and caressed the curls of hair that thickened in a line to his groin.