“What the hell?” she gasped. “What the fuck just happened?”
Stevie turned, and threw her arms around Rosie.
Mist stood back, not wishing to interrupt the fever of embraces, exclamations and tears among the four of them. While he waited, he let any remnant of Aetherial features drop away, let his form appear human again. He allowed himself a smile.
Then Stevie looked up and saw him.
Gently disentangling herself, she came to him, focusing all the obvious remarks into her eyes so she needn’t say them aloud. We’re alive, thank the gods. Is it over? His arms enfolded her. They embraced in wordless relief that was echoed in the chaos all around them. Bewildered Melusians mingled with Tyrynaians and Sibyelans.
After awhile, Sam said, “Albin?”
“Dead,” said Mist. “I’m sorry.”
The hawk-like corpse lay in clear sight in a livid lake of blood.
“What the hell are you sorry for?”
“Well … he was your grandfather.”
Sam and Lucas looked at each other. “No apology needed,” Sam said. “I’d have done it myself, if we hadn’t been … paralyzed, or whatever. Believe me, he’s had it coming for a long, long time.”
“Can you remember anything?” Stevie asked anxiously.
All three shook their heads. “Fragments,” Rosie answered. “Nothingness. As if time had stopped. I knew something was really wrong, but I couldn’t work out what. Horrible. But you came back for us! What happened?”
“Have you got all day?” Stevie found a smile.
Lucas said, “Did we dream it, or was Albin doing battle with a red-haired fire goddess? And calling her … Maia? Who is she?”
“Oh.” Mist paused. “That’s my sister, Aurata. Also known as Maia, yes.”
“As in Maia, our grandmother?” Lucas said quietly. “This is surreal. What should we do?”
Sam said, “This is probably not the best moment to introduce ourselves.”
Mist shook his head. “I don’t know what will happen, but we may have a chance to see her in Tyrynaia. Vaidre Daima’s taking her prisoner. Rufus too.”
“They seem to having a difference of opinion about that,” said Sam.
Where the island shore met the plateau, Aurata and Rufus were side by side, facing Vaidre Daima across Albin’s corpse. There was a negotiation taking place, Vaidre politely but firmly repeating his request for her surrender, Aurata smiling as if humoring a child. Behind him, the Spiral Court troops stayed in their ranks. Mist suspected they were in awe of her, even afraid. Every step the leader took towards her, Aurata took a step back.
“My lady, you must come with us,” he repeated.
Aurata said simply, “Not in a million years. You have no power over me.”
“You won’t be harmed. We need to question everyone.”
“Bad luck, because I answer to no one.”
Rufus put in, “For pity’s sake, Aurata, we may as well go with them or we’ll be here for eternity.”
Rosie said, “And so will we. Can we sneak away before they notice? I really want to leave, I can’t stand being in this place another moment.”
Stevie looked at Mist, who nodded. “Yes, she’s right. Let’s just go. We’ll have to find our way around to the far side of the island and hope none of the warriors are there yet. Are you all okay to walk?”
“A bit stiff, and not in a good way,” said Sam. “But we’ll manage.”
Around the base of the spire they went and began to cross the quartz plate of the island’s far shore. It was a few hundred yards—farther than Mist had expected—and rising slightly so they couldn’t see what lay beyond.
Reaching the rim, they stopped in astonishment.
Nothing. A great midnight curve of space hung above, in front and below. The oval of the plate’s rim protruded a good hundred feet over this void.
Sam said, “Holy crap, look where we are. Did Albin know he’d stranded himself halfway over the Abyss?”
“I don’t think he did anything by accident,” said Lucas.
Stevie gripped Mist’s arm. She gasped, tried to speak, gasped again. “To think I was worried about tripping up in the fog!”
Edging as far forward as they dared, they looked down.
The heart of the Spiral was also, somehow, its endless boundary: an ink-black sweep of infinity. Far below was a vast roiling galaxy, a flat spiral trailing long, glittering arms. It was breathtaking with clouds of crimson and violet gas, dense with stars that sparkled blue and white and yellow. At the center was lightless disk, like a bottomless well, a black hole.
The Eye of the Cauldron.
Mist was horribly aware of standing on a thin crust of rock that might break like sugar beneath them. Yet he couldn’t tear his gaze from the wondrous galaxy. The black eye was Estel’s domain, her cauldron of creation, beginning and end.
To fall into the Abyss is true death, true annihilation, even for Aetherials …
“This isn’t how I remember it,” said Rosie, her voice shaky.
“You’ve seen this before?” said Stevie.
“It was more a true chasm, like in the Norse myths, with fire rolling down one wall and ice vapor down the other … and there was a tree, a gigantic world-tree. You remember, don’t you, Luc? We looked down from the branches. I don’t remember seeing a huge eye of stars. Why is it different?”
“It’s the Abyss,” said Sam, “Ergo, it’s huge. Of course it won’t be the same everywhere.”
“And it changes,” said Mist.
Lucas nodded, looking pale. “That’s the Spiral for you. Different according to who’s looking into it, and why.” He began to back away. “I can’t stay here. The Abyss and me … not very comfortable with each other … Sorry, I don’t feel great and I think we should just go and find a different way back.”
Rosie caught his arm, pulling him farther from the precipice. “It’s okay, Luc. We all feel like crap. We’re not in the best state for admiring the wonders of the Otherworld, so…”
“I suggest we work our way back and just go to Tyrynaia with Vaidre Daima,” said Sam. “We’ve done nothing wrong—have we?”
“Of course not,” said Mist. “I think you’re right. You do all look terrible.”
“Thanks.” Rosie grimaced at him.
“Didn’t mean—oh, you know what I meant. So we’ll rest until they’ve finished arguing with Aurata and then go along quietly. Agreed?”
Sam and Rosie began to make their way off the perilous rim, supporting Lucas between them. Mist and Stevie hesitated for a few seconds. It was so hard to stop looking into the awesome majesty of the Cauldron.
There was a shout. Vaidre Daima’s voice, again.
“Stop!” Then to his warriors, “What are you waiting for? Capture her! Lady Aurata, give yourself up. You’ve nowhere to run.”
Rufus and Aurata appeared, heading towards the lip of the island. They were barely thirty feet away; Mist ran towards them, calling out a warning. Stevie followed. He told her to go back with Luc and the others, but she retorted crisply, “I’m staying with you.”
On the very edge, Rufus and Aurata slid to an abrupt halt. They looked tiny against the vast emptiness beyond.
Vaidre Daima and his guards halted yards away, as if they dared not set foot on the rock plate that hung over the void. Sensible, no doubt, but Aurata had now placed herself in a siege position that might go on indefinitely.
“Aurata, what the hell are you doing?” Mist stopped a few feet from her. She looked unnaturally serene. He had no idea what was going on in her head.
She didn’t answer. Rufus shrugged. He looked haggard. “We’re not giving ourselves up to the Spiral Court. That’s the end of the matter. No surrender.”
“Rufe, you’re not the one in trouble, for a change.”
“Makes no difference,” said Rufus. “Where Aurata goes, I go.”
“Why?”
“She’s the one person who loved me when everyone else hat
ed me.”
“She locked you up, not so long ago!”
“It doesn’t matter. Perhaps if we hadn’t lost Aurata when Azantios fell, the story could have been different. We might have all stayed sane. This is the only true family we have: each other. Maybe you can’t stand me, Mist—fair enough, but I still want to be with Aurata.”
Mist felt a long, deep pang. The only true family … “After what she tried to do?”
Rufus shrugged. “She’s still my sister, and the love of my life. I’ve done worse myself; I can overlook a little fire-goddess-channeling lunacy, can’t you? So she went mad for a while. Who hasn’t?”
“The Abyss,” said Aurata, as if she hadn’t heard their conversation. She turned to them, her face golden-white like a luminous shell. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yes, fantastic,” said Rufus. His voice shook. “Now step away from the edge. Come on, Aurata, think about this. They’re only going to question us. How bad can it be?”
“I feel safe here. Mist, come closer. See how beautiful it is.”
“We’ve seen,” he said. “I know today has been disastrous. Your onetime husband is dead, Veropardus and Slahvin are dead, and your power is gone. But—look, your brothers are still here. We’ll help you.”
She laughed. “What are you, the men in white coats?”
Stevie said cautiously, “Your two grandsons would quite like to meet you.”
“If I was the ordinary Aurata you want me to be, possibly. I wish them well, but I’m a stranger to them. I can’t see it would do them any good to meet a madwoman.” Her voice turned low and savage. “There are no true Aetherials left.”
“Admit your plan could never have worked,” said Rufus. “Let’s go away somewhere. Like when we were in Venice, remember? Forgive me. It could be you and me again. Mist, too, if he changes his mind. And lovely Fela, if she can forgive you for the swamp business and Daniel and all that. Don’t you remember how fond you were of her? What else matters?”
“Nothing,” she said dully. Placing her hands on Rufus’s shoulders, she kissed him on the mouth. “Nothing else matters. But it can’t happen, because the Spiral Court will incarcerate me for eternity. You’re right; I was carried away with delusions. Qesoth will not rise, there will be no new golden empire of the Felynx. But what should we have done instead?”
“Anything.”
“Not me. I can’t live a small life. Even if I was wrong, I hold to my destiny and I do nothing that is not my own choice.”
“Don’t move!” Vaidre Daima shouted from a distance. A hundred armed crossbows glowed red in the darkness. “Aurata of the Felynx, this is your final warning. Surrender yourself to the Spiral Court!”
“Not a chance,” said Aurata. She looked at Rufus, her face aglow. “Are you still with me?”
“Always.” He smiled back. They joined hands, both stretching into tawny, lynx-like forms. Laughing.
“No!” Mist yelled. Too late. They bounded and leapt—
Stevie vanished with them.
It was a trick so fast that Mist barely saw it, let alone had a chance to act. In a last stroke of mischief, Rufus had grabbed Stevie’s wrist and taken her over the precipice with him.
With a yell of anguish, Mist plunged after her. Missiles whizzed past his ears. He felt the searing pain of a crossbow bolt gouging the skin of his upper arm, but then he was far beyond the range of Vaidre Daima’s army. Falling, falling into the Abyss.
* * *
How is it possible to fall, Stevie wondered, when we’re out in space with no gravity to seize us? It must be the pull of the Cauldron itself.
She was too stunned to feel fear. She remembered the sense of calm when she’d drowned. This was the same. She felt wonder and resignation as she stared down into the great spiraling mass of stars, billions of stars that never seemed to grow closer however far they fell. She heard their soft roar, a sound she’d never dreamed could exist, the song of eternity.
Aurata shone like a comet, leading the way. Rufus was still gripping Stevie’s wrist, his head thrown back and a cry of exhilaration pouring from his throat. She glanced upward, but could no longer see the edge from which they’d fallen.
All she saw was Mist falling after her. He was reaching out, altering his position like a skydiver to catch her up.
Shock jolted her from calm trance into frantic horror.
“You bastard, Rufus.” Mist’s voice was thin, carried away by their speed. “You haven’t changed, you will never change!”
“But we’ll all be together. Don’t you want to know the secrets of the Cauldron?”
“Death. True death.”
“An awfully big adventure, as some wise man put it. I know now why I could never die. It’s because the Spiral itself rejected me! This is how it must end, don’t you see? The three of us, together…” Rufus’s words were becoming drawn out now, slow and breathless. “If one goes, all must go. The four of us. Stevie’s part of us now. This way, we will all be together … forever.”
There was joyous exuberance in Aurata’s curving descent. Rufus smiled manically, laughing without sound. Stevie saw the wound in Mist’s shoulder, saw his eyes grow heavy as he fought the effects of the drugged crossbow bolt.
Every fiber of her screamed denial.
All the time, Mist was struggling to prize Rufus’s hand off Stevie’s wrist. He forced himself to stay conscious, would not give up. And she saw Mist’s hand suddenly change, sprouting a claw like a butcher’s blade.
Stevie saw the claw slice straight through Rufus’s wrist. The hand remained clamped around her forearm—but Rufus, cut loose, his mouth wide open in disbelief, floated and rotated away in Aurata’s fire trail.
Mist gave a hoarse scream.
She was free, but they were still falling. Beneath them the Cauldron waited, a vast mass of starfire trailing its arms into the void. The great black eye turned, strangely soft and inviting, even merciful—like Persephone’s eyes—but inescapable. Stevie knew that they might fall for a thousand years before they reached the center.
Estalyr.
The word dropped into her mind from nowhere, something Rosie had said. She thought, But we can fly, we can fly, why do we have to fall?
Stevie pushed deep inside herself, into the most ancient parts of her brain, the long-forgotten core of herself buried like a fossil under layers and layers of time, right back to the beginning. Wings can’t beat if there’s no air …
But to the Estalyr, the First, it doesn’t matter. Those rules don’t touch us. She felt a rush of blue-black energy, strange yet achingly familiar. How could I forget this? Heat rushed through her, like a million stars powering her from within. She felt vast wings leaping from her back like sails.
Stevie caught hold of Mist and clung to him as she unleashed her wings in long, powerful beats.
There was no effect at first. Then a slight deceleration, but they were still falling. And then—equilibrium. They hung in the void, but she could not gain height. She realized that Mist, although barely conscious, was also taking winged Estalyr form. His valiant efforts made little difference. Yet, however little, it helped.
Below them, his brother and sister fell, tumbling, swirling downward like sparks of fire. Stevie knew that Mist would swoop down and save them if he could, despite all they’d done. She knew it broke his heart that he couldn’t. His body shook with despair against hers. Yet he held on to her with all his strength and worked frantically to help them gain height.
The pull of the Abyss was too strong. Their wings beat like giant sails against nothingness. They were weightless, like astronauts in orbit, losing height again. Even their primal essence was not enough.
“We tried,” Mist said into her ear. “Don’t be afraid. At least we’re together.”
“No,” said Stevie. “We must try harder. I won’t let you fall!”
She saw dark shapes around them like falling leaves. More Estalyr, soaring on great dark wings: indigo-black angels with golden
suns for eyes.
Stevie gave her wings an extra, desperate push. Mist reached up with one hand, caught the hand of the Estalyr that was extended to him from above.
The effort was like clinging to twigs in a flood. With infinitely slow progress they all strove against the heavy pull of the Abyss, as if trying to swim up a waterfall. Like salmon leaping upstream, they strove for the impossible … and began to win.
A last desperate push, with several pairs of wings sweeping, straining, they reached the lip of the chasm, hung on and climbed, clawed their way, as ungainly as bats, onto flat ground.
Their Estalyr forms dropped away with sheer exhaustion. Stevie and Mist stood clinging hard to each other as they saw who had rescued them: Rosie, Sam and Lucas.
23
Always Summer
“I’m not squeamish,” said Stevie, “truly, I’m not, but someone please get this thing off me!”
She stretched out her right arm behind her, turning her head the other way. Rufus’s severed hand was locked around her wrist and she feared she might have to wear it like some grisly bracelet for eternity.
There was activity behind her. The pain worsened, making her wince.
“Stevie, it’s gone,” said Sam.
“I can still feel it!”
She glanced around to see Sam holding the object balanced on his palm, his mouth twisted in a wry expression of distaste. The hand did not look human. It was like a paw sheened with reddish fur, the long, bony digits tapering to neat claws. She hadn’t felt it come free, and could still feel claw tips in her skin. She rubbed briskly at her forearm, trying not to gag.
“See?” said Rosie. “It must be like when you pull out a splinter but it still hurts like hell for a while.”
“Oh, god,” she whispered. “Thanks.”
“Right, come on,” said Mist, sliding a firm arm around her. His irises reflected the pale rock, matching the ghastly bone-white hue of his face. “Let’s get away from here. Nothing Vaidre Daima does can matter to us now.”
Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) Page 48
