Phoenix Burning

by Bryony Pearce

  “Adele, for the love of all you consider holy, shut the hell up.” It was Ayla. “You’re acting like a baby.”

  For a second the girl was shocked into silence. “There’re rats!” she cried eventually.

  “And roaches. So what?” Ayla snapped. “Have they hurt you? No.”

  “I-I don’t like this.” It was Summer.

  “Well, you know what you’ll like less?” Ayla growled. “Having your tongue cut out on that altar.”

  “She’s right, Summer – be strong.” It was Arthur.

  Toby leaned against his cell door. “What happened to it’s a competition?” he murmured.

  “She was pissing me off.”

  He heard Ayla stamp across the cell, her boots crunching on roaches as she went. Then there was a loud squeak and a thud as Ayla booted a rat across the cell.

  Ayla’s scolding didn’t keep Adele quiet for long. After only a few minutes the girl began to sob once more, her cries getting louder and louder. Around his cot, Toby could hear the rats getting braver, closer. When one brushed against him he yelled as he thrust it away.

  “Toby…” Ayla warned.

  “Sorry. I’m all right.” He sat back on his cot, drawing up his legs.

  Then there was another kind of scream from across the passageway: Uzuri. This time it was a cry of surprise and pain, followed by a flood of words in her native language.

  “What happened?” Toby leaped to his feet.

  “One of them bit her.” Zahir’s voice was shocked.

  “I guess the rats are hungry, too,” Bianca called, her voice high-pitched and verging on hysterical.

  “Stamp around,” Cezar called to her. “They’ll be more scared of you than you are of them.”

  “Nae rats,” Brody said. “They’re nae ’fraid of anythin’ they can eat.”

  Adele’s sobs rose again, louder and louder.

  “She’s driving me crazy,” Moira shouted. “Adrien, shut yer sister up,”

  There was no reply from Adrien.

  “Adrien?” Toby pressed his hands against the door. “Are you all right?”

  Still silence.

  “The rat’s have eaten him!” Celeste cried.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Ayla groaned. “He’s probably fallen asleep.”

  “Not likely.” Toby kept his voice low. “Adrien, talk to me.”

  Adele carried on screaming.

  “Adrien…”

  “I-I-I can’t!” Adrien’s voice. “Je ne paux pas.”

  “Adrien…” Toby warned.

  “He’s breaking,” Ayla breathed.

  “Je veux sortir. Je veux rentrer … a la m-maison.” Suddenly he was shouting. “Je veux sortir! Laissez-moi sortir!”

  “What’s he saying?” Arthur yelled, struggling to be heard over Adele’s howling and Adrien’s abrupt thumping.

  “He’s hammering on his door.” Toby pressed his hands against his own. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Adele’s voice joined her twin’s. “Let us out!”

  When Mother Hesper came for the twins, she brought a torch. The guttering flame drew the couples to their doors like moths.

  Even though he didn’t want to see Adele and Adrien removed from their cells, Toby approached the heat and light. He stared at the flame and clutched his arms around himself. Would they all be forced to the altar and made to watch once more?

  As Adele’s door opened she raced out of the cell and stopped before the blaze with a gasp of relief. Her whole body was shaking, she was pale and her sapphire eyes were bright red. She turned from the light only when Adrien flew from his own cell to wrap his arms around her. His hair was matted around his face, and Toby was horrified to see clumps of hair clinging to his fingers where he had been pulling it out.

  Adele clung to her twin but then, as though struck, her knees collapsed.

  Toby turned from the horror on her face.

  “Let us go to the altar,” Mother Hesper said.

  “No!” Adele staggered to her feet then raced past Mother Hesper towards the stairs. The sister allowed her to go.

  Adrien looked up into her skull-like face. Calm had descended on him. “There’s nowhere to run?”

  Mother Hesper shook her head and held out her arm. “Shall we?”

  Adrien nodded as he looked after his twin. “Louer le Soleil.”

  Toby heard a scream from above – Adele had been caught.

  FOURTEEN

  Different areas of the courtyard had been annexed. Toby and Ayla sat in the shade of the far wall, facing off against Arthur and Summer, huddled under the limestone steps not far from Celeste and Aldo who were, as usual, holding hands with their foreheads pressed together.

  Zahir and Uzuri had taken the right corner and Brody and Moira the left. Lenka and Matus and Bianca and Cezar were in the centre. The couples whispered conspiratorially and occasionally glowered at their competitors. Around them brothers and sisters glided, quietly watching.

  Ayla put her hands behind her head.

  “How can you be so relaxed?” Toby felt the weight of a gaze on him and looked over at Arthur, who turned his head away.

  Ayla shrugged. “None of this lot have anything on us. Didn’t you hear all the crying earlier? Over a bloody insect or two.” She shook her head. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, but what about the –” Toby lowered his voice – “things we came for? I’ve been thinking and thinking. I can’t work out a way to get to them that doesn’t get us caught by the guards.”

  Ayla dragged a hand through the short side of her hair then spoke under her breath. “We could fight our way in, but the problem is getting out again.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We can’t get through the wall.” Toby glanced up at the guard hut where a robed figure stood, scanning the courtyard.

  “We’re going to have to lie our way in,” Ayla said. “We’ll ask if we can visit the relics to pray.”

  “What if they say no?”

  “Maybe we can get the others onside.” Ayla looked over her shoulder at Lenka and Matus. “They say they’re so devout – we could persuade them to do the asking for us.”

  “You’re not planning on telling them what we’re doing?” Toby sat up straighter.

  “Of course not.” Ayla sneered. “We’ll just make a big deal about how devout we are and that we want to go and pray at the relics. A day’s rations say they’ll demand it, too.”

  Toby licked his dry lips thoughtfully. “No bet. You’re right.”

  Above them the sun glittered on the glass shards that lined the wall, creating a barrier of light. Toby turned away, his vision blurring in the heat haze that rose from the dust. “I’m thirsty.” He rose. “I’m going to get a drink.”

  Ayla stretched her long legs out in front of her. “I’m not ready to go in yet.” She glanced over at the dim interior and Toby thought she gave a tiny shudder. Had she been more affected by the darkness than she claimed? Could he trust her if she wouldn’t confide in him?

  “I’ll be back.” He stood and walked away.

  When Toby returned, Mother Hesper had arrived and the couples were standing in lines, ready to go back inside.

  She looked at him as he slowed his steps. “Join your partner.” Toby stood beside Ayla.

  “In your cells you will find buckets of wet clay,” Mother Hesper said. “Strip yourselves then cover your bodies, faces and hair. Let no part of you remain clean.”

  “Strip?” Leila frowned.

  Mother Hesper inclined her head. “You may keep your underthings, but they too must be covered in clay. Once you all emerge I will tell you what happens next. But act quickly – you must be back out here before the sun reaches the West Wall.”

  Toby stared at the bucket in the centre of his cell. It was overflowing with what looked like sloppy grey mud. He put a hand in. The clay was cold and slippery between his fingers. He wiped some over his forearms and it crackled as the warmth of his skin began to dry it.
r />   “We’re going to have to move fast if we want to get back out there in time.”

  “We won’t be quick enough if we work alone.” Ayla leaned against his door frame. Her face, surrounded by her cloud of dark hair, seemed almost to float in the dim light. “You do me, then I’ll do you.”

  Toby flushed. “Are you sure?”

  “Let me know when you’re ready.” Ayla retreated into her cell.

  The others had closed their cells and Toby knew they were stripping. He swallowed. He wasn’t keen on Ayla seeing his bare body but he had no choice.

  He tossed his shirt and trousers on the bed, took a deep breath and left his cell. Ayla stood beside her own bucket of clay wearing nothing but a narrow breast band and pair of shorts. Her long pale legs glowed in the low light.

  Toby’s eyes went to her chest and throat, which were already thickly coated with the clay slip. Pink scar tissue puckered at the edges of the clay. She hadn’t wanted him touching her injuries.

  “Ready?” She held her arms up at shoulder height.

  Toby grabbed handfuls of the slick mud and pulled them free of the bucket with a sucking sound.

  He hesitated then said, “Turn around.”

  Ayla turned her back to him and flicked her hair so that it dangled down her chest.

  The mud was slippery and thick and underneath it, Ayla’s skin. His fingers were hesitant as he smeared the mud across her shoulders and up to her ears.

  Toby stepped nearer and slid his hands around her throat and under her chin. Her skin smelled sun-warm and his stomach knotted. This time he had to put the mud on top of her breast band. Halfway down her spine, he ran out and had to return to the bucket.

  Once he had filled his hands until they dripped, he returned and put his hands over her hips.

  “Hurry,” she murmured.

  Outside, Toby could hear the others grunting in frustration as they tried to cover themselves, it wasn’t long before he heard cell doors open and voices call out for help.

  Businesslike as possible he rubbed the mud into her hips. “I-I’ll do your legs next,” he said.

  “Just get on with it.” Ayla had dropped her arms. Her fingers dangled a hair’s breadth from Toby’s.

  He closed his eyes, swallowed and rubbed his hands over her curves as fast as he could. Still his heart beat faster.

  Toby fetched more mud then kneeled to get to her feet, his face close to her thigh. He had to look away. Through her door his eyes met Zahir’s. He was looking very serious as Uzuri covered him with meticulous care.

  Toby rubbed his hands up and down Ayla’s legs as quickly as he could, working his way from the back to the front. She turned for him and he found himself rubbing her shins.

  He stood and loaded his hands again. Ayla was almost covered in the mud, only her face, arms and stomach left to do. Her hair stood out from her head where Toby had got mud in it and one eyebrow was raised.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll do your arms next. Can you lift them up?”

  Ayla lifted her arms again and Toby began at her wrists.

  Slowly he worked his way up to her right elbow then up to her shoulder. She writhed as he quickly did her armpit, a strangely intimate action.

  “What about your left arm? I don’t want to hurt you.” Toby was thinking of the moment he had treated her burns on the Phoenix.

  “Just be gentle.” She offered the arm to him.

  Using as light a touch as possible, Toby began at her recently broken wrist. Oddly, the more gently he touched her, the more aware of her he was; of the whorls in her skin and of the hairs that stood up in anticipation of the touch of cold mud. She had freckles on her forearms that made a pattern as decipherable as Hiko’s tattoo. With great care he daubed mud over the shirt that covered her burned shoulder and chest and spread his fingers over her chest.

  “Your face?”

  She nodded and, using only his fingertips, Toby pressed mud on to her wide forehead and down the smooth bridge of her nose, into the creases on either side and up to the delicate skin around her sea-green eyes.

  When he’d finished he quickly turned and wiped the remaining clay on himself, coating the parts he didn’t want Ayla to touch.

  When he was finished she turned to him with a challenging grin. “Your turn. We’ll have to go to your cell.”

  She walked past him and Toby let out his breath. In the corridor he could see other couples. Lenka and Matus were already finished and were heading towards the stairs, mud drying in smears all over their bodies. Moira and Brody were close behind them, sloppily applied clay dropping off them in thick clumps. He glanced at Summer’s door, but it was closed and there was no sign of Arthur.

  He slipped into his cell.

  Slap. Ayla wasn’t gentle. Her palms moved quickly over his bare chest, brushing the hair and creating a tremor that ran to his toes.

  “Turn around,” she demanded.

  Toby turned and tensed until her hands clapped on to his shoulder blades and moved inwards, running down his spine and across his waist.

  She grinned as she finished his arms and legs. “You look great.”

  She stepped close to do his face and her breath mingled with his as she smoothed slip over his cheeks. Toby closed his eyes, reminded of the night in his sleeping quarters when, for a brief moment, they had trusted each other.

  Her fingers had stopped moving.

  “Open your eyes, Toby,” she whispered.

  His eyes snapped open.

  “That’s better.”

  She stared into them, her thoughts unreadable.

  Then she turned away.

  Toby’s throat bobbed. “We’d better go back to the courtyard,” he said.

  They were last out. The other couples were all covered in mud, looking like they had emerged from a swamp. Lenka’s straw hair now stood up almost vertically, while Brody had decided to cover Moira’s hair completely; her usual spikes were flattened as if they’d been waxed. Arthur had taken pains to leave Summer’s hair mud free, but it still clung to her arms and back like seaweed. Arthur had coated her in mud so thick her body looked lumpen and still she kept her arms tightly around herself. Mother Hesper walked around the group, checking them. As the sun touched the West Wall, Toby clenched his fists – soon another two teens would be taken to the altar.

  “Sit in a circle in the centre of the courtyard.” Mother Hesper pointed, as if they would be unable to work out where that was.

  Toby sat with Ayla on one side of him and Summer on the other. Uzuri was directly across from him and his gaze settled on the flash of her dark brown eyes as she too checked around her.

  “Sit comfortably.” Mother Hesper swished forwards. She stood so close to Toby that his skin crawled. Even over the mud that covered his nose, he could smell the must of her robes and something sour.

  “In today’s challenge, your dedication to the Orb will be tested. You must sit in the sun and not move. When you move, your mud coating will flake off, so we will know. You have until nightfall – the one with the least amount of mud remaining upon them will lose for their pair.”

  “All we have tae do is sit still,” Brody said, moving his lips as little as possible. He gave a small smile and looked at Ayla. “Ye ever hidden from a Georgian patrol for three days?”

  Ayla said nothing.

  “We have.” Moira was smug.

  FIFTEEN

  At first it was easy to remain still. Toby sat with his legs folded, his hands resting on his knees and his neck slightly bent. After a while he closed his eyes; the sunlight gleaming from the bronze sunburst on the sanctuary roof was reflecting from the metal sundial and making his vision blur.

  Time passed.

  Toby opened his eyes again, certain that he must have been sitting for an hour at least but the shadow of the sundial had barely moved. What did that mean? Had it really been only a few minutes?

  He shifted his gaze upwards without m
oving his neck. Uzuri and Zahir were utterly motionless, only the slight rise and fall of their chests told Toby that they were even breathing. There was no movement whatsoever to catch his attention and pull it one way or another. The teens all sat like statues, totally silent, streaked with silver where the mud had dried fastest.

  Toby could tell where his own clay was drying because his skin had tightened underneath, pulled by the tiny hairs into the shell that was beginning to form around him. He glanced at his right forearm, fascinated by the process as the clay hardened, but underneath he began to itch.

  He tried to turn his mind to something else.

  Beside him he could hear Ayla breathing slowly, meditatively, in and out. He latched on to the sound, focusing on the measured inhalations.

  But the more he thought about his inability to move, the more panicked his heartbeat became; it thudded against his ribs and forced his breath faster. He was sure the clay over his chest would soon shatter. Every muscle tensed. How was everyone else doing this?

  “Toby.” Ayla spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “Take … deep … breaths.”

  He tensed his arms even tighter, forcing himself to stay still and his breathing became shallow again.

  “Focus,” Ayla whispered, her lips barely moving.

  On what? Toby pictured himself on the Phoenix with Hiko and D’von. Polly was on his shoulder and he was running, playing a game of catch with Hiko. The boys had rolled their sleeves up because of the sunshine and Hiko’s tattoo flashed as he swung behind the mizzen mast and caught some rigging. Toby’s stiff mouth tried to form a smile and he pressed his lips closer together.

  In his mind he and D’von swung after Hiko, whipping past the pirates on the deck below.

  Then Toby thought of Dee, stuck on the cold rocks of Faroe Island. Had Birdie reached them yet? If so, she and Marcus would have already gone on to Reykjavik. Had they really tried to get on the Banshee with Ayla’s note, or would they wait for a better ship?

  A voice spoke to his right. “Keep … praying.” He didn’t dare look up to see which of the girls it was.