Final Passage (The Prisoner and the Sun #3)

by Brad Magnarella

  “Don’t let them…” Iliff called toward Tradd.

  The mist and whispers grew thicker. Iliff swiped toward them, but once more failed to grab hold of anything solid. A deep thud sounded against the earth, and Iliff knew that Tradd had fallen to his knees.

  It cannot end this way.

  The whispering dwindled. The somnolent mist thinned. And now Iliff became aware of another voice, a commanding voice that he had heard long ago. In the same moment, his chest swelled with warmth.

  “Stand away,” spoke the voice.

  Iliff lifted his head. She stood tall, her gaze as radiant as when she had presided over the Assembly as queen. The faces of the Fythe became flat and uncertain as they backed several steps from her.

  “I no longer sleep,” she said. “Go now.”

  And one by one, the Fythe obeyed. They slipped away, some down the valley, others into the trees. But Iliff saw them only peripherally. He pushed himself to his feet and reached forward, fearful that she would prove just as insubstantial as the attendants. His fingers trembled. Smiling, she took his hand and pressed it to her warm cheek, then kissed his palm.

  “I am awake,” Skye said.

  Iliff stooped beneath her flowing hair and embraced her.

  * * *

  “No, I did not pass,” Skye said to Tradd.

  The three of them had left the valley, climbing the path through the far forest. They sat now in a clearing, where boughs of green and golden leaves arced overhead. Water flowed nearby.

  “The attendants must have found me on the shore, just as they found Iliff. They led me through the forest in a kind of sleep walk. It is how they conduct those newly arrived. It is how they would have conducted Depar.”

  “And that is why I saw both of your footprints in the sand,” Iliff said.

  Skye nodded and tucked her folded legs further beneath her. Iliff looked on in fascination. After watching her worrying decline these last months, he could hardly believe the youthful image before him.

  “They led me to where my father and mother sleep,” she said. “They placed me in the bed, and there I was expected to remain and sleep as well. But mine was not the sleep of the fallen.”

  “Thank goodness,” Tradd said with a laugh.

  “So this place holds no power over you?” Iliff asked carefully.

  “No lasting power. Not as long as I remain awake.”

  “Then we should move quickly.”

  Iliff stood and helped Skye to her feet. Tradd stood as well and wiped his trousers a couple of times before realizing that there was no debris to brush away. Iliff watched him look from the ground to his trousers in confusion.

  “How is it that we are young again?” Iliff asked Skye. “That we do not hunger or thirst? That our clothes are unspoiled?”

  Skye took his arm as they set off down the path. “Remember,” she said, “this is not the same as the world from which we came. This is an imagined realm, Iliff, an ideal realm. One built on generations of Fythe beliefs. And though we are not fallen, still we are under its influence.”

  “And when we leave?” Iliff asked.

  “When we leave the Far Place, we enter the world again. We will be as we were.”

  “How do you feel?” Iliff asked her.

  Skye sighed lightly. “I am still tired, Iliff, like during our passage over the Sea. The beliefs hold stronger influence over me. But do not become alarmed if I sleep. As long as we remain distant from the valley, as long as I am not mistaken for one of the fallen, we need not worry.”

  The path wound on and soon opened into three smaller paths that wandered away from one another.

  “Which way?” Tradd asked.

  “Hm… I feel nothing,” Skye said.

  Iliff nodded his head in agreement. He felt only the lightness of the trees. “Let us begin with the middle path, then,” he suggested.

  They walked for a long while, the path winding through forest and over bridges that spanned narrow stream valleys. It was the most beautiful wood Iliff had ever walked in, more so even than the King’s Preserve before its felling. The leaves that fluttered over them were coin-shaped and colorful, the trunks around them white and strong. As Iliff looked over them, he thought he glimpsed the round knots in the trunks shift into eyes for a moment before becoming knots again. He decided it was a trick of the light and said nothing to the others.

  The path soon rose and turned toward an opening in the trees. As Iliff hastened their pace, he was reminded of his final steps in the root-lined tunnel that led out into the world. He squeezed Skye’s hand in anticipation. Tradd ran ahead, then stopped. When Iliff came up beside him, he saw it himself.

  The valley was back before them, the hundreds upon hundreds of beds rising and falling along the grassy swells. On the far side of the valley stood the high shelf where they had found Skye.

  “We’re right where we started,” Tradd grumbled.

  “Then we will try the other paths,” Iliff said, his voice rigid with resolve. He turned to Skye and noted the weariness, and perhaps disappointment, that strained her youthful face. “Are you all right to continue?”

  “Yes, I believe I can go a bit farther.”

  They kept near the trees as they moved along the rim of the valley, toward the path they had first left the valley by. Iliff monitored the attendants who moved among the fallen some distance below. Several of them raised their heads, but made no move to approach. Nevertheless, Iliff did not relax his guard until the three of them were in the forest again and beyond their view.

  They were nearly to where the path divided into three when Skye spoke near Iliff’s ear.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I am going to need to rest.”

  Iliff nodded and they found a small clearing for her away from the trail where the grass grew soft and thick. She lay on her side, resting her head on her folded hands. She smiled up at Iliff, who knelt beside her.

  “I will only sleep for a little while.”

  “We will not leave you,” Iliff said. He stroked her golden hair. “We’re going to make it. We’re going to pass through.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  * * *

  Iliff and Tradd remained in the clearing as Skye slept. They did not need rest themselves. Neither did they desire food or water. It felt to Iliff as though they were inside some elaborate dream. He peered out along the path, hoping they were distant enough from the valley and the concerns of the attendants.

  Behind him, Tradd cleared his throat. “If you want, I can try one of the other paths.”

  “It is brave of you to offer, Tradd, but no. There is no telling where those paths lead. Better we stay together.”

  “We could go together. I could carry her.”

  “We might end up back in the valley. For now, we are safer here.”

  Tradd thought for a moment. “What if there isn’t a way out?”

  “There is. There has to be.”

  “But what if there isn’t?”

  Irritation climbed Iliff’s neck. But when he turned and found Troll’s old worry across Tradd’s young face, he could not help but smile. He walked over and put his arm around Tradd.

  “When you became lost in the swamp,” he said, “your father spoke to you.”

  Tradd nodded, his lips still set in a frown.

  “What did he tell you?”

  “To return to you right away,” Tradd said. “To go with you to the Sun.”

  “That’s right. And he would not have told you those things if we were going elsewhere.” Iliff looked to where Skye continued to sleep. “He also said that we would need you. Both Skye and I.”

  Tradd nodded again.

  “You did not lose hope when you set out in your boat after us. Neither did you lose hope or heart when the serpent seized us. Or when I disappeared inside the seaweed. Indeed, it is largely by your resolve that we have made it this far.” He looked into Tradd’s eyes. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

&
nbsp; “Not to lose hope now?”

  “That’s right,” Iliff said. “If I’ve learned anything on this journey, it’s that there is always a way out. It is only a matter of finding it.” He thought for a moment. “Or letting it find you.”

  Tradd’s lips trembled into a smile.

  “All right?” Iliff asked.

  “All right,” Tradd said.

  But even as Iliff hugged Tradd to his side, his gaze returned to Skye, who lay still and silent in her growing sleep.

  Chapter 22

  It was many hours before Skye awakened. She sat up and with a small sigh stretched her arms high in the air. She opened her eyes. Upon seeing Tradd and Iliff, her face brightened.

  “Shall we continue?” she said.

  “Yes, you are rested?” Iliff asked.

  She nodded and reached for Iliff, who lifted her to her feet. He turned her once around, then kissed both her cheeks. Though she smiled and laughed against him, he could feel the place they shared. She was more tired than she let on. He looked on her another moment before retrieving his bag from a nearby tree.

  “I packed some food,” he said. “Dried fruit and bread and the like, but I don’t suppose anyone’s hungry.”

  No one was, not even Tradd, so they set out. The three of them walked a short distance to where the path divided into three. This time they chose the leftmost way. The features of the path—the surrounding trees, short bridges, and steep ravines—were similar to what they had seen in their journey along the middle path; however, the terrain now climbed steadily as they walked, and Iliff took this as a promising sign. He remembered something that he had begun to wonder while Skye slept.

  “The god who presides over this realm,” Iliff said to her.

  “Yes. Dyothe.”

  “Where is he? Should we not have seen him by now?”

  “I’ve felt for him, Iliff, but all I get are impressions. There is no form to them. It may be that the beliefs around Dyothe are too vague. They say only that he receives the fallen and looks over them while they sleep. Being neither male nor female, it is not clear the form he assumes.”

  Iliff looked over the pale trunks with their whorled knots and up into the canopy.

  “Maybe he oversees the sleeping from a high vantage somewhere,” he said. “Like a king on his throne.”

  “Perhaps,” Skye said.

  The path continued to climb, but at length it leveled. Soon an opening appeared through the trees. Iliff’s heart sank. Behind him, Tradd stifled a groan. They were looking out onto the valley again, this time from above the shelf where Fythe royalty slept. Far to his left, Iliff discerned the silent shapes of Skye’s father and mother. The empty bed beside them had been remade, he saw, but with the sheets and duvet folded far back. He turned to Skye.

  “We’ve still the rightmost path,” he said.

  She opened her mouth slightly, but her eyes were closing. Tradd caught her as she collapsed into sleep. Iliff looked from Skye to the valley and watched in horror as several of the attendants left bedsides and began climbing toward them, their movements smooth and assured.

  “Quickly,” Iliff ordered. “Back the way we came.”

  He and Tradd fled along the path into the trees. Iliff looked behind them as they ran, certain that at any moment the attendants would overtake them and demand possession of Skye. He and Tradd would be helpless to stop them. Mist appeared to Iliff where there was none. Voices seemed to whisper around them. Skye rocked in Tradd’s arms, her legs as limp as the clean gown that draped them.

  When they had gone a considerable distance, they slowed. Nothing moved around them now but the fluttering leaves.

  “Is this the same path we came in on?” Tradd asked.

  “Yes,” Iliff panted, “I think so.”

  But he could not be certain. Aside from the bridges, there was very little to distinguish one part of the forest from another. No odd stumps or fallen trees. Everything rose in quiet sameness. He and Tradd continued to run, for he was anxious to get them back to the clearing, where he felt they would be safe. Or as safe as they could be. After all, they had spent many hours there earlier, and the attendants had not seemed to sense Skye’s sleep. Either that or…

  Iliff quelled the thought.

  The path wound on beneath the green and golden canopy and over another series of arched bridges. And now Iliff was sure that this was not the same path, for the going stretched much longer than the coming. Tradd sensed it too. He slowed his pace and hiked Skye gently in his arms.

  “Did we miss a turn?” he asked.

  Iliff shook his head. “There were no other paths. Just this one.”

  They continued. Ahead of them the path wound to where the trees appeared to stand farther apart before opening over a grassy downslope. Iliff lengthened his stride, confident that they would not find themselves back in the valley this time. After all, they had been traveling away from it all this while. He had Tradd remain back in the trees with Skye while he went ahead to investigate. When he was very close to the treeline, Iliff rose onto his toes.

  “Oh, blast it all.”

  His heels thudded to the ground.

  “What is it?” Tradd called from behind.

  “The valley,” Iliff answered. “Again.”

  As Tradd turned, Skye’s silken hair fell over his arms. Iliff had him stop so he could smooth it back into place. She seemed more vulnerable than ever. They returned down the same path, and yet Iliff suspected it was not the same. Though he could not see this by the forest around them, he felt it.

  And on they went.

  * * *

  By the time Skye awakened, Iliff and Tradd had reemerged on the valley’s edge thrice more, each time at a different part of the valley, and each time by way of the path they had most recently left the valley by. With Skye awake now, they decided to chance a journey around the valley’s rim to the far path that split into three. There was still the rightmost way to attempt.

  “I wonder whether this confusion is by Dyothe’s design,” Skye said, her face still soft with sleep.

  “What?” Iliff asked. “Keeping us here?”

  She nodded.

  Iliff watched Tradd, who strode ahead of them. “We found a way in when it was believed none but the fallen could enter,” he said. “Too, we will find the way through.”

  “He knows of our presence,” Skye whispered as she scanned the trees around them. “I can sense it. He understands why we have come. He understands that our intention is to pass through his realm.”

  “But we are not fallen. He holds no claim over us.”

  “You do not understand.” Her blue eyes shone with conviction. “The belief in this place is collectively held. It is what makes this place vivid. It is why we see the valley below, why we can walk along its paths or rest in the grass and listen to the leaves sighing in the trees. It is why we appear youthful. But the belief is also what makes this place vulnerable, Iliff. We are a communal race. Should even one Fythe penetrate through, it would challenge the belief, long-held, that the Far Place is the final rest, the final realm for our people.”

  “What has this to do with Dyothe?”

  “The dissolution of the belief would mean his dissolution as well.”

  “His death?”

  Skye nodded and lowered her whispered voice further. “He would fall with the Far Place, Iliff. He would cease to be. I sense that he knows this. That he fears this. And that is why he should be intent that we not pass.”

  Iliff frowned as he considered this.

  They reached the path at the far end of the valley, but had yet to arrive at the division, when Skye fell to sleep once more. Iliff carried her to the clearing and lay her gently on the grass. He straightened her gown.

  “She hardly stays awake anymore,” Tradd said.

  Iliff thought for a moment, then stood and shouldered his bag. “I’m going to need you to stay with her.”

  “Why? Where are you going?”

 
“The final path. I need to know whether or not it is the way through.”

  “What if it is and you can’t come back?”

  “If I am not back by the time Skye awakens, then you will know that is the way I have left by, and so that is the path you two must travel.” He stood before Tradd. “Do you understand?”

  Tradd nodded, then bent his brow. “And if you end up back in the valley?”

  Iliff’s gaze narrowed as he looked from the clearing. He worried the same thing, of course. It was the dreaded thought he had not allowed himself to complete earlier in the day. He turned once more to where Skye slept beneath the trees.

  Either the attendants did not sense her here or they knew that all paths led to the valley.

  “Then I will demand an audience with their god,” Iliff said at last. “I will confront Dyothe.”

  Chapter 23

  Iliff held to the rope of Salvatore’s bag where it crossed his chest. Though he had set out more than an hour before, still he wondered whether it was wise to leave Tradd and Skye behind. He paused now, his face tense. What if the attendants came for her while he was away? He imagined Tradd’s far-off shouts, imagined himself returning there in a furious sprint only to find the clearing empty.

  Iliff began to turn back, then stopped. No, he had to go forward. He could not afford to doubt himself while whatever remained of Skye’s wakefulness, indeed Skye’s life, slipped from her.

  The trees around Iliff rustled pleasantly. His eyes searched the forest as he walked. If all paths led back to the valley, he thought, what if they were to leave the paths altogether? What if that were the way through?

  Iliff turned and took a few exploratory steps into the wood. There came a low sigh, almost beneath his hearing, and in the next moment the trees he faced seemed to have grown closer together, becoming impassable farther back. Iliff turned around. The few trees between him and the path had thinned, as though inviting his return. Iliff looked on the dark whorls of knots along the trees’ trunks. He imagined them watching him, anticipating him.