“As long as it’s watertight,” said Sam, adding under his breath, “Doesn’t sound promising.”
“Blessings of Estel the Eternal upon you.” Lucas rose and bowed to the Halathrim.
Fine drizzle sifted from the sky as they waited. Sunlight appeared briefly, turning the glades to silver and diamonds. Soon the naiads returned, pushing a low, oval vessel that appeared to be tight-woven from reeds. A coracle, primitive and handmade. The Melusians pushed this floating basket hard into the bank and held it steady for the Vaethyr to step aboard.
Sam went in first, lending a hand first to Rosie, then to the others in turn. The vessel rocked alarmingly as they boarded. There was space enough for the five of them, with simple wicker seats across the front, middle and rear. Although the boat looked fragile and shiny-grey with age, it felt sturdy on the water once they were seated. Lucas took a position at the prow while Sam and Rosie sat on the middle plank, with Mist and Stevie at the rear.
There were four oars, long and spade-shaped. “I think I know how this works,” Sam said, passing one each to Rosie, Lucas and Mist. “The person at the front has to paddle—sorry, Luc, did you think you were going to sit there with the wind blowing through your hair while the rest of us did the work? Person at the back steers. Rosie and I will row too, to add to the speed. This is going to be fun.”
Mist took the steering oar. They pushed out of the reed beds, with the Halathrim helping to pull them into clear water. “Estel watch over your journey,” said the female naiad. “Fare well.”
The coracle rocked as the Halathrim let go, causing Stevie to gasp and grab the side. Rosie looked back at her with a smile. “I’ve realized who you remind me of, Stevie. You know the painting by John Waterhouse, The Lady of Shalott, where she’s drifting away in a boat? You look just like her.”
“More like the Bag Lady of Shalott,” Stevie retorted. “Hold on, wasn’t she floating away to her doom?”
“Ah. Not the best analogy,” said Rosie. “But you do have the same great hair and nervous expression.”
“Thanks, I think,” Stevie said with a grimace. She saw the faintest smile touch Mist’s shadowed face. What did the smile mean? That he was ready to talk to her again? “Look, I have a weird relationship with water and I don’t want to sit here being rowed to a romantic death. I’m the relief oarsman, okay? As soon as one of you gets tired, I’ll take over.”
“It won’t be Rosie,” said Sam. “She’s a landscape gardener. Arm muscles like an ambidextrous tennis player. Lucas, on the other hand, rarely lifts anything heavier than a magical staff. My money’s on Luc giving up first.”
Lucas, without turning round, showed Sam a finger.
Stevie grinned to herself. She couldn’t express her relief at being in the company of these three Aetherials who were so down-to-earth and confident enough to make jokes while she was quietly terrified.
Soon the Halathrim were lost to sight and the wetlands became eerily empty. Violet waters slid by. The only sound was the splash of paddles in the water. They were passing down a long, wide channel between reed-beds that made Stevie think of the Florida Everglades that she’d seen on television … but those images had been green and blue and sunny, full of life, usually with a noisy fan-driven boat churning parabolas of spray. Here there was only purple-blue emptiness. A couple of herons skimmed across the waterway in front of them … then stillness fell again. Melusiel reminded her, too, of the marshes where Fela had lived … and drowned.
“Is this it, for two days?” said Sam. “This is like the canal boat holiday from hell.”
“Worse,” said Rosie. “At least canals have pubs.”
“Can you two show the slightest bit of reverence?” said Lucas. “It’s a magical pathway. Of course there are no fucking pubs!”
While they bantered, Stevie said softly to Mist, “Are you all right?”
He glanced at her. “Yes, why?”
“Because ever since … you seem worried, withdrawn. Not yourself.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She waited, but he said nothing more. “So what’s wrong?”
At last looked directly at her. “Where to start answering that? Everything.”
“Have I upset you? I know we argued a bit.”
“You?” He looked surprised. “No, Stevie, no.” He touched her hand, then was silent again, all his attention focused on steering as Lucas called out instructions.
Stevie knew the feeling of simply not wanting to talk, and worse than that, being unable to. It chilled her. She let him alone.
Wisps of fog drifted past, forming shapes that tricked her eyes into seeing spectral beings. Along the shore, ferny trees showed in silhouette against gold-touched cloud.
Some hours later, they steered into the edge of the waterway and pulled the coracle up onto the bank. There were no reeds to hamper them, only a mat of thick, lacy vegetation. About twenty feet inland, a ridge rose from the bank, clustered with outcrops of rock. Trees clasped the rocks with twisted roots. Their branches reached up like gnarled willows, glittering with leaves like tiny green coins, vivid against the dull lavender hues of twilight.
They found a sheltered place to make camp in a curve of the ridge. Then there was nothing to do but try to keep dry while they ate and rested. Sam, Rosie and Lucas were talkative. Mist added occasional remarks, but Stevie felt that all their talking had been done last night.
She removed herself from the group and sat on a rock, looking out at the softly mysterious wetlands. Rain misted down. A flock of small birds resembling egrets took flight. Most of them were white, but three were a startling bright red. The sight made her smile in surprise. She felt at peace, as if it would be easy to forget Daniel, Mist, Rufus and everything else, and remain here until she dissolved into the rain and trickled down to join the naiads in the lake where she could drift among the lilies without a care.
“Are you doing okay?” Rosie asked, sitting down beside her. She put a chocolate bar in Stevie’s hand and added, “You didn’t eat much. Have this.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
“The journey’s not too awful, is it? I know they say it rains all the time here, like in Manchester or Seattle, but I like Melusiel.”
“It’s nice, actually, just drifting along. It’s what we’re heading towards…”
“Well, we’ll do our absolute best to help. Don’t worry. We’ve been through far worse than this, believe me.”
Stevie again felt so glad of Rosie’s company that she could have hugged her. Instead she held her feelings inside, unsure how to be demonstrative without looking like an idiot. “You didn’t have to come with us, but I’m so glad you did.”
“Oh, you’d have managed,” Rosie said cheerfully, “but the more, the merrier. To be honest, Lucas isn’t doing this out of charity. He’s got an ulterior motive. He won’t admit it, but I reckon he’s looking for Iola. She’s lovely, but very Aelyr. She keeps vanishing and he’s always scared she won’t come back. And he’s also after news of Albin.”
“From what I’ve heard about Albin, he’s better left alone.”
“True. He tried to stop Luc becoming Gatekeeper. It’s a long, convoluted story, so let’s just say, Albin is always trouble. They say he was never in his right mind after his wife Maia vanished, but I think it’s the other way round; she went, because he’s a cold authoritarian bully.”
“Is Luc scared of him, maybe?”
“I think so. We all were. Albin needs cutting down to size in our minds, because he feeds on fear.” They sat quietly, sharing the chocolate. Then Rosie said, “When you find Daniel…”
“If we find him.”
“Have you ever wondered if you might get back together?”
Rosie’s question took her aback. As if her strange rebirth had stripped her of social skills, she felt rusty at friendship, unwilling to confide. “Why do you ask?”
“There’s affection in your voice when you speak about him. Sometimes we don’t recogn
ize what we really want until it’s almost too late.”
Stevie saw a chance to deflect the question. “Do you speak from experience?”
“Oh, I’m the queen of horrible mistakes.” Rosie grimaced. “But we got there in the end.”
“So everything felt right with Sam?”
“Oh, no. Everything felt wrong, completely wrong! We’ve known each other since we were quite young, and he was a nightmare—we couldn’t stand each other.” One side of her mouth curled up. “Then it turned out we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, which caused even more problems. But it’s so easy to form distorted ideas about people. He’s not perfect, but neither am I. Underneath his bad-boy act, he’s the bravest, most loyal person I’ve ever known. I’ve seen him literally sacrifice his life to save others. Being Aetherial, we got a second chance, and not a day passes that I don’t give thanks for it. We argue like crazy, but never with any hard feelings, because we’re sure of each other. It works, for some reason.”
“It must feel good, to have that certainty.”
“I’m so much luckier than I deserve. However, we were talking about you.”
“You’re shamelessly nosy,” said Stevie. “You remind me of my friend Fin.”
“Who’s she?”
“A woman I worked with.” Memories of the museum rose and choked her, as she recalled with fresh shock that she wouldn’t be going back.
“You all right?”
“Yes.” Stevie mastered her tearful moment. “Fin and I weren’t that close, which was my fault really, but we got on well and she could always be relied on for common sense. When the strangeness started, I broke down and blurted it all out to her, and she didn’t turn a hair. Talk about getting people wrong! I’d judged her as an ‘ordinary mother of two’ who was going to suggest I needed therapy. But no, it turned out she was grounded in all sorts of esoteric matters.”
“Aelyr experiences?”
“I don’t think so … related, maybe, although I don’t know how. I’m starting to see layers in everything, and they all seem connected.”
“Fin sounds interesting,” said Rosie. “And what did she advise you to do?”
“To go with the flow. To accept what was happening instead of fighting it. So if I lost my job and went with Mist … it was meant to be.”
“Wise woman.”
“Literally, I think,” said Stevie. “She had a definite touch of witchiness, like Virginia, although less full-on, of course. And like you.”
“Ah, no, witchy wisdom is not my strong point,” Rosie said with a grin. “But I’m quite good at gardening, and telling dirty jokes. It’s the earth element in me.”
“Is that really any more influential than a horoscope sign?” Stevie pulled her jacket closer, feeling coolness in the air.
“Good question. I’m sure there’s something in it, simply because this is the Otherworld and we’re part of it. Ideas that are vague on Earth have a life of their own here. But the rules don’t bind us. You might be born to an earthy family of Elysion, for example, only to find your nature is more of air or fire. Or a mixture. Mist, for example. He came from the Felynx, an eretru of fire, didn’t he? Yet he appears to have powerful watery leanings.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that. Why, though?”
Rosie shrugged. “Who knows? Perhaps he felt different from his fiery family. Or because he’s so clearly, madly attracted to you.”
A small shock went through Stevie. She shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no, he’s definitely not that. We’re just friends.”
“Right.”
“Really.”
“Are you sure? That’s why I asked about Daniel. I wondered if you might be torn.”
“There’s nothing to be torn about.” Stevie realized she was beginning to sound defensive. She didn’t want to argue with Rosie. “It can happen that you like someone, but you can’t do anything about it due to circumstances, and that’s fine. Okay … I admit that Mist is easy on the eyes.”
“He’s gorgeous,” Rosie teased. “I would, if I wasn’t with Sam.”
“Oh, yes?”
“Ah, now you’re giving me a definite ‘Hands off!’ stare.”
“No! Was I? No. The thing is, it’s beside the point. If Mist looked like an orang-utan, I’d still help him. And he’s on another planet, emotionally: still in love with a woman called Helena who died close to four hundred years ago. Nothing’s going to happen. And I don’t want it to; I’m not pining after him, if that’s what you think.”
“No,” said Rosie. “Sorry, I’m being mischievous. Matchmaking is the most dangerous of games.”
Stevie put her hands around her raised knees and stared through the glistening willows. The lake surface danced under the rain. “Yes, pinning all your hopes on romantic love is a great way to screw up your life. When I surfaced on Earth, I was totally alone and clueless. One of my biggest shocks was hearing all this strange alien music; I mean pop songs on the radio. Once I could decipher them, I was absolutely astonished to hear endless love songs where the woman loves her man so much she’ll sacrifice anything for him. She’s offering to completely lose her identity, merge her whole self into his. How is that admirable? And then all those defiant, angry songs stating, ‘I can survive without you, just see if I can’t!’ when the singer sounds about ready to kill the guy and set fire to his new girlfriend. What’s healthy about any of that?”
“Bloody hell,” said Rosie. “That was quite an outburst.”
“It made me realize that there are more important things than pairing up and trying to live out the wild expectations inspired by romantic songs. It’s brainwashing!”
“Again, bloody hell,” said Rosie. Then she gave an infectious grin, and they started to laugh.
Stevie added, “What I had with Danny was wonderful, a connection that made me feel real. He saved me, like a hand pulling me out of the ocean onto the safety of a ship. Yes, it was love, but neither of us needed it to last forever. And that’s okay.”
They sat without speaking for a while. She heard the men’s voices murmuring at a distance. Eventually Rosie said, “I know what you mean, Stevie. I’ve suffered the whole romantic delusion business myself. When the real thing happens, though, it is quite nice.”
“Well, I’m fine without it. All the same…” Her gaze drifted to Mist and she stared at him for a few seconds before forcing herself to look away. “God, why do things have to be such a mess?”
Rosie put her arms around Stevie, and kissed the side of her head. “Hey, it’s all right. Plenty of time to sort it all out. You’re not alone; we’ll be with you all the way.”
Stevie briefly returned the hug, breaking it before Rosie’s sheer warmth and sweetness made her cry. She felt steadier. “I hope Sam knows he’s the luckiest man in the world to have you,” she said.
“Oh, I never let him forget it,” Rosie answered cheerily.
* * *
Sheltering beneath the rocks on higher ground, Mist glanced at Stevie and Rosie and wondered what they were talking about. He was glad she’d moved apart. A cloud of darkness had settled inside him. He felt dreadful, but each time he tried to speak, he had no words to offer her. Nothing.
Fela, Helena: both had died—indirectly or otherwise—at his brother’s hand and he, Mist, had done nothing to protect them. He couldn’t let the same happen to Stevie.
A weapon against Rufus … that was what he needed. And this time, no mercy.
Sam and Lucas, who’d been at the water’s edge looking over the lake, walked up to join him. “A thought,” he said, as they sat down. “I know Lord Albin has been no friend to you, but he was part of the faction that tried to bring charges of treason and genocide against Rufus. He failed, but … he might become our ally, after all.”
“Ally?” said Sam. “That would be more than out of character. That would be a bleeding miracle.”
“Yet he’s your grandfather.”
“So? Like they say, you can’t cho
ose your family. Albin is a coldhearted, sociopathic bastard,” said Sam. “He screwed with my father’s head. No wonder my grandmother left him. He couldn’t even get on with his own mother, Liliana, who was Gatekeeper for centuries. She was held in great respect, plus she’s a sweetheart. But Liliana was living on Vaeth, and Albin in Sibeyla, so perhaps he resented her absence or maybe he was born without a soul-essence, I don’t know. I don’t think he was born, but chiseled from a block of ice. There must have been a tiny strand of passion because he managed to get together with Maia for long enough to produce my father, Lawrence. Maia’s long gone, though; even she couldn’t stand Albin. He took her desertion badly. Any remnant of humanity vanished with her.”
“What about Albin’s father?”
“Y’got me there,” said Sam. “Liliana was always alone. There was a rumor of a liaison with an Aelyr of Elysion, which would make Albin half-earthy and not pure Sibeylan after all, which knowing him would make him very unhappy. Hence the purist extremes.”
“Perhaps that’s what we need, to counter Rufus’s extremes of mayhem and destruction. I’m certain he’s planning something monstrous.”
“And Albin’s powerful, and hates him?” Sam’s mouth pulled to one side. “Mist, mate, you’ve got to ask yourself, what would Albin’s price be for helping us? You know the old saying: He who sups with the devil should have a long spoon.”
Mist took this in, exhaled slowly. Since his leafy-dragon transformation, he felt colder and stronger. “I’m not sure that Lord Albin is still as powerful, after his humiliation before the Spiral Court. You’re right, Sam. I have to deal with Rufus myself.”
Lucas said, “One time—after the last big conflict was over—Rosie met Albin and he said to her, ‘Are you so very sure that the true danger of the Spiral has yet shown itself?’ You should ask her about it. We thought he was trying to unsettle us, because that’s what he does. What if he really meant it, though? Perhaps he knew something. Maybe he knew that if Rufus was set free, he’d take his revenge?”
Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) Page 29
