As she crested the next hill Ashley saw what had drawn them. It was a battlefield down there, strewn with the dead and dying. You need to walk amongst them if you are going to understand the consequences of what it means to be Tanaquill's child. She didn't argue with him. She couldn't have even if she wanted to. In that curiously compelling way of a dream she just had to follow him. They walked through the dead. Carrion birds had settled on the cross braces of swords that had been stabbed into the ground as makeshift headstones.
My brother lies over there with most of his pack. They fell trying to hold the ford. They weren't the first and they won't be the last. Soldiers live, soldiers die. That is the way of it. All for a piece of dirt. A bird startled, bursting up into the sky in a flurry of feathers and harsh caws. That was when Ashley noticed the man on his knees. He wasn't one of the fighters. He wore the clothes of mourning: a thick black cloak. She let go of the Beautiful One's hand and ran towards the man. He looked up at her approach, infinite sadness in his gaze. She knew him. It was the King Under the Moon, but she had never seen him look like this. He was a broken man. I couldn't save them. He said. There was no accusation in his voice. Just that melancholy sadness.
The Beautiful One came to stand beside her. Before she could say anything the world around them seemed to ripple as though in the grip of a heat-haze, her vision shimmering. As it settled the grass beneath their feet withered and died, shrinking away until only hard-packed dirt and dust remained. It stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. There was no river now. The riverbed was cracked and broken, bone dry.
"Why are you showing me this?"
Because you need to see it.
"What are you?" Not who. What.
I am no one. A reflection of the truth.
"The man in the mirror."
If that is how you need to think of me, my Queen, then that is who I am.
"I am not your Queen."
She heard something then; it was like a sudden rush of snow; like the tumble of water down a river towards the sea; like waves breaking on the shore; like a great intake of breath.
On this side of the story you are. This is how it will be, kin will turn on kin as the fighting begins and it will not end until the land herself has no life left to give. Reach out, feel it, it is every bit as real as your or I. I will not lie to you. I cannot in this place. This is as it will be. As it has to be.
"Are you saying this is my fault?"
Not yet, but it will be, though fault is such an ugly word. This will be your doing. Yes. If you claim the Briar Crown the dark will not rest until you are crushed, and all who worship you are bones drying in the dust for the Coribrae to pick over. It will be war unlike anything this world has ever known.
"But why? I still don't understand how me being anything other than just… me… can be a bad thing."
Come. He said. One word and the world changed. Suddenly everything around them was dark. Then a funnel of flame vented, a burst of fire shooting up into the sky. It was greeted by the hammering of iron. Then another burst of flame gouted up into the sky and suddenly she could see more of the world around her. They were in the mouth of a mineshaft, and all around them trolls like Grimtooth laboured. Three huge Rock Trolls were trussed into a great wooden gear-mechanism, trudging step-by-step around in circles and getting nowhere. Each revolution of the gear wheel lowered a basket filled with gnomish miners deeper into the belly of the earth where the flames belched forth. More of them hunched over stones, hammering away with blunt chisels to chip away at the rock and get to the ore inside. Sweat glistened on their backs. Tall elfin figures stood over them, cracking their whips the moment it looked like one of the gnomes might be about to falter, or heaven forbid, rest. The whips were barbed and bloody from where they'd torn into the backs of the labourers. Slaves, she amended, watching the way they were beaten.
"What is this place?"
These are the mines of the Troll King. It was once a Moonwell that fed the great forest. Now it is the single largest source of Moonstone ore in the Kingdoms. The ore is used in the manufacture of Fae armour. These unfortunates labour day-in, day-out, with no sleep, no rest save to eat a single meal a day, until they drop dead from exhaustion simply to give the Fae the ore they need to hammer out their breastplates and greaves so they can face each other on the battlefield and end up as food for the Coribrae. This is another cost of war. A hidden cost. It changes lives on every level. There are places like this all over the Kingdoms. They are mining the magic out of the world while blacksmiths toil, farmers break their backs only to see their lands laid to waste as the armies ride through.
It didn't matter what he called it, this place was hell, or the closest she could ever have imagined to it. It was hard to believe it could be the same magical place she'd first seen as she travelled through the Moongate at Traitor's Gate with Blaze.
Just thinking about him now hurt. She felt the tears welling up again. She couldn't believe that he was gone. So many dead, all her fault. It weighed on her soul.
"What would happen to them if I didn't claim the Briar Crown? What then, Mirror Man? Can you show me that future too?"
The Beautiful One smiled.
With pleasure, though it may be no more pleasant for you to see a world without you. You see, where you are no one, then you are nothing to anyone, look. And with that he took her hand again and took her back to the Shard of the Subluna. They were on one of the balconies high up the spike itself, looking down over the great forest all the way along the Night River after it had flowed beneath the Shard to the Wyrm Peaks far, far away. Everything was so peaceful.
She could see it all. It didn't matter that it was impossible. The Mirror Man made it her reality. Her gaze swept across the world from Chapfallen Wood, and in its heart Lochrien, the lost city, to the bustling villages on the banks of Misty Bay, and then out to see where the Black Reefs threatened to scupper shipping, and as far as the eye could see, it was the same: peaceful.
Ashley looked around, trying to take it all in yet again. It was a breathtaking place. That was the only word for it. London was breathtaking, too, but in an entirely different way. Where London was intense, everything crowded in on everything else, and people lived on top of one another, all cogs in an intricate perpetual motion machine, each needed to make it tick; this was a landscape of absolute calm.
We don't have much time, the Beautiful One said, and there is so much you still need to know. Let me help you. Let me be your guide in this. Trust me. You have seen both sides of this story. You have seen your dead, and you have seen the peace, the calm, the serenity of a world without you. Tell me, my Queen, how many people will have to die for you before you are content? A hundred? A thousand? A hundred thousand? Every last man, woman and child? How many?
"No one," Ashley said, shaking her head.
There's always someone who has to die, even if it is you, Ash.
"No. It doesn't have to be that way. It doesn't."
You don't actually believe that, do you? Not after everything I've shown you? How could you risk even one person finding out who you really are? Just one person and everything changes. Everything ends. All it takes is one person to say you are Tanaquill's daughter and then two, then three, and soon the truth will be wildfire spreading to the furthest corners of the world, to the wrong ears and the light and the dark will rise up against each other fighting for the right to make you their Queen, and you have seen what happens then.
You don't want that, do you?
You don't want the Moon-Torn to rise.
Not with all of your heart. Imagine them out there; imagine what it means for the worlds. Yes. Worlds. Both of them.
There was something about him mentioning her heart that sent a shocking pain through her temple. Ashley reached up, touching the skin where it burned. She winced at her own touch.
Do the right thing, the Beautiful One said seductively. Turn your back on it all. Give up your birthright. Deny your bloodline.
Let it go. For everyone. Listen to your heart.
That word again, and again it was met by a searing pain in her temple.
Do the right thing. Be a normal girl while you still can. Think about it. Weigh it in your heart. Another stabbing pain came with that word. This one threatened to tear her in two. Be a mortal child, the Beautiful One suggested, tempting her. Give up the Moons and all that they mean. Be Ashley Hawthorne. Put an end to this world's pain. Put an end to Ashkellion. Let her go.
"I don't know if I can…"
You can do anything you want. But I can help you. All you have to do is trust me deep in your heart.
Ashley cried out in pain. She felt he knees buckle and her legs start to go out from under her.
The Beautiful One just smiled. It was cruel and cunning at the same time.
Ashley found herself weakening, his words tangling around her like snakes, constricting ever tighter and tighter until she couldn't breathe. She looked up at the sky, but didn't see any moons up there never mind seven of them.
It was the smile.
The teeth. They were like fangs now that she looked at them closely.
Your heart is weak…
You are unworthy of the Briar Crown.
You must die.
Look at me. Tell me what you see. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me…
Ashley… Ashley… Ash…
The Beautiful One was gone. In his place stood the Occulator.
She screamed and fell forward, sprawling at his feet.
THIRTY
A Mother's Love
Swords and words rang out, both clashing violently in the passageway that led to the great Occulum. It was deafening and terrifying and without a weapon Meghan Hawthorne felt utterly helpless.
Her little girl was on the other side of that door.
She was damned if she was going to fail her, not now, not ever.
And then she heard the screams coming from behind the closed door and it was all she could do not to just hurl herself at the Redpelts and risk their savage claws.
"We have to get in there! Now! Can't you hear her! She needs us!"
Ephram Wanderer said nothing. He didn't have the luxury of time for thought, never mind words. He fought for his life side-by-side with Targyn Fae. The Fae had used her last sonisphere to drive the Redpelts back inside, taking out the Alpha before he'd bared his fangs. Now she wielded her juggling clubs like cudgels, trying to hammer a way through.
Ephram was no swordsman. Indeed, even as he parried and thrust what looked like a blade, the moonbeams filtering in through from the windows high above cut right through the blade in his hand, betraying it as nothing more than a thin sliver of moonbeam that wasn't in his hand at all, but was actually part of his hand. His blade met the Redpelt's claws battering them back again and again, every bit as effectively as if it were made of steel.
And then Ephram stumbled.
In that moment as the old man started to fall, Ratko wriggled his way through the press of bodies and passed the pair of them.
The dwarf scurried towards the Redpelt guard that stood over Ephram about to deliver the killing blow. He had a wickedly sharp dagger between his teeth. As the guard tried to adjust his balance, sneering as his claws slashed down, the little hunchback launched himself feet-first and sliding between the Redpelt's legs. At the last moment he reached up, snagging a handful of Wolfen fur in his fist, and hauled himself back to his feet. Before the Redpelt could either finish Ephram or turn to face Ratko, the dwarf ran up the guard's spine, climbing his back like a ladder, and stuck the fine point of his dagger into the Wolfen's eye.
He dropped off the dead guard's back and turned to face his next opponent who was already rounding on him.
And still everything would have been lost if Blackwater Blaze hadn't stumbled into the middle of the fight, bloody, battered and torn, but fighting for the life of the girl who had changed his.
He helped Ephram to his feet.
The Wanderer looked at his saviour, then made piece with the fact that the Wolfen was their only hope of breaking through the door.
Paget stood back to back with Meghan Hawthorne, the Faelyn, Rain, buzzing above their heads as the Wyrd Sister wove the beginnings of another incantation to singe the fur from the nearest of the Redpelt's hides. The Redpelts moved to regroup, and suddenly the way to the door was open.
Meghan didn't hesitate.
She ran straight for it, through the slashing swords and flashing claws, and threw the doors wide open.
She burst into the Occulum, Blaze on her heels.
She saw Ashley on her knees, the Big Bad Wolf looming over her draped in a red cloak that made a mockery of Little Red Riding Hood and every variant of that old fairy tale.
"Ashley!" she yelled. Every eye in the place turned towards her. No. Not every eye. Two people didn't look her way. The two people in the middle of the ring of mirrors didn't look up. Ashley and the wolf stared and stared and stared at each other, locked in a deadly embrace. Ashley clutched something—a mirror—while the wolf man hand his claws digging into Ashley's temples. "Ashley! Ash!" Meghan howled, sounding more and more desperate each time she said her daughter's name.
She threw herself at the Occulator, and as she did, Ashley screamed and fell forward, sprawling across the cold stone floor.
THIRTY-ONE
Threads of Fate
Ashley heard her name.
Each time she heard it, it sounded like the tolling of a bell, her name peeling out across the landscape. And each time that bell tolled, it cracked another piece of the lie Redhart Jax's mirror had shown her until the brittle illusion broke and the landscape started to splinter. The world around her was like the shards of a broken mirror. It fractured, exposing black cracks in the seams of what she was seeing, but instead of opening fissures down into the belly of the world they were just jagged edges and nothingness.
It was dizzying to be so far up, looking down on creation.
She couldn't see the Beautiful One. He was gone. She was alone up here, three miles above the world.
She felt the Shard rumble and sway, and clutched at the floor, suddenly sure the tower was going to topple.
Her mother's voice gave her something to cling on to.
No! His voice lanced through her mind. She lifted her head up again, but she still couldn't see him. He wasn't even a face in the clouds. He was gone.
You can't leave. Not like this! No! I will not let you! Think of the lives at stake if you walk away! Think of all of the innocents who will die! Think! You cannot wear the Briar Crown! It will be the downfall of us all!
Ashley did think. She thought of her mother's face, that wry half smile way she had of smiling when she really didn't like an idea. She thought of her standing in the kitchen brewing a pot of tea and thought about what it felt like when she realised she might never see her again, and she thought about a thousand other little things that went with growing up with someone always there; good and bad report cards, days in the park on the swings and roundabouts and slides; shopping trips and the first time she could see over the counter top; laughing at dumb TV shows and dancing to loud music; splashing along the water's edge with her socks and shoes in her hands; eating fish and chips on Brighton Pier with the seagulls circling overhead, crapping in her dinner; the mixed emotions of the first day at school and saying goodbye at the gate; sponsored walks and failing at sponsored silences; pretending the dog ate her homework even though she didn't have a dog; reading Nostradamus and discovering the Mayan calendar for the first time and thinking the world is going to end and then that relieved laughter when it didn't; wishing on a shooting star and trying to remember which one was the Great Bear and which was the Plough and not realising they were the same thing; walking past a graveyard after six in winter when it's dark and hearing something and running as fast and far as you can without having a heart attack; that first school disco and wondering if he'll come over and say hi or if he'll just carrying ignoring her as he
has done every day for two years and crying after it, not sure what's wrong with her and why people like Mel have it so easy; falling over and scraping her knee on the gravel and being carried home crying; picnics and microwave dinners and happy meals scoffed down before diving into the ball pool and risking it all coming back up again; being so excited that Rudolph had drunk the saucer of milk left out for him; imaginary tea parties and getting told off for getting her school uniform dirty or putting a hole in a new pair of tights and so many other things. The thoughts just kept coming, brought on by the sound of her mother's voice and Beautiful One's demand that she think!
When you are dying they say your life flashes before your eyes. It must be a lot like this, Ashley thought, clinging on to all of those memories as even more flooded her mind. She wanted to scream. Maybe if she did they would stop? Did she want them to stop?
Yes! Yes! Make them stop! Put an end to them!
And because the Beautiful One wanted them to stop, she embraced the flood, welcoming more and more memories to come back to her.
In the very centre of them she saw a single point of light, bright, brilliant, that seemed to open up into the heart of the world. She walked towards it. In the centre of it she saw Blaze. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. She wanted to feel them wrap around her and keep her safe. She wanted to tilt her head up to look into his eyes and taste his salty lips on hers. But he was dead. The thought stabbed through her, crippling her resolve. As she neared, the light became painfully bright until she couldn't see him anymore. She screamed and started to run. The world didn't move. The landscape didn't change. But the light got brighter and brighter until it burned to look at. Still she ran towards it.
The memories offered her a way back out of the mirror and the choices she'd been given there. She clung on to each and every one of them, forcing herself to run and run and run until the light was unbearable and she had to open her eyes.
She stared up at the hole in the ceiling of the Occulum, the mirror's spell broken.
Moonlands Page 27
