“Oh, what fun!” Rosalee said. “Dalah, let’s walk around the city.”
“You think we could get around the entire city in three hours?” Dalah asked.
But Aladestra was leading them up the stairs, and after only a short distance, Grace lost the rest of the conversation.
The first door on their left was the conference room they would be using. Aladestra opened the door and welcomed the group inside.
Around a circular table sat the other Guardians, and a smattering of their personal entourages; whether guards, advisors, or a little of both, Grace wasn’t sure. Most of them she recognized only through reputation and titles.
Azra Akeed she recognized, having met her once. Her red hair and caramel skin reminded Grace of the short, unfriendly time she had spent in the Realm of Fire.
Still others she didn’t know. She imagined the white-haired child was Pyang Tsang, since he was the only child in attendance, and sat to the west, the blue flag of the Realm of Water hanging on the wall behind him.
Aladestra walked around the room, her hand gracing the top of a new chair with a shadowy black flag hanging on the wall behind it.
“I had hoped we could meet the new Guardian of the Shadow Realm,” Aladestra said. Was there a hint of disdain in her voice? Grace bristled with the thought that Aladestra could hate Joya simply because she was the Guardian of Aladestra’s rival realm.
“She ventures to the west,” Sara said. She took one of the seats to the north, the green flag on the wall behind her. Annbell sat down in the chair beside her. Mag and Grace followed them and sank into two of the other unoccupied chairs.
“Ah, the west,” Azra said, and Grace could barely understand her because of her deep accent. “To what grows there?”
Sara nodded.
“One would have thought the council of Guardians would have decided that,” said a thick-boned blonde who sat in the east. Grace thought it was Rowan Lok, the Guardian of the Realm of Air. She sat alone. Grace remembered Sara saying there had been a lot of destruction in the Realm of Air; likely Rowan couldn’t afford to bring a group with her, and instead left them behind to deal with the destruction.
“Some might think the time was for action, not politics,” Annbell fired back. “If what we have been told by Azra and the dreams of the LaFaye children is true, there wasn’t time to discuss, only to act.”
“There is a darkness growing in the west,” Azra reminded Rowan.
Rowan Lok rolled her shoulders and sniffed.
“The darkness has already risen,” Grace said, drawing most eyes to herself.
“You know this how?” Rowan Lok asked.
“Angelica and Jovian LaFaye are anakim, they are gifted with farsight. They’ve seen what’s coming in the west.”
“And that is?” Aladestra asked.
“Come on,” Annbell erupted. “You’ve seen the warning signs, you can’t tell me you don’t know?”
“Enlighten us,” Rowan said.
“All of these attacks aren’t just caustics,” Sara said, cutting her hot-headed twin short. “We’ve been attacked by fallen, we’ve warded off an alarist. There have been similar reports pouring in from all around the realms. The Ivory City has lost all of its verax-acis, and Aladestra herself has fought a fallen, with wings.”
Silence fell around the table. Rowan sat back in her seat, studying Sara as if gauging the truth of her words. But to question what Sara said was to question what others had also seen, and in that Rowan was outnumbered.
“The Turquoise Tower,” Azra said, finally breaking the silence. “It’s been found?”
“And is calling out to all beings with angelic blood,” Grace nodded. “That’s why Joya LaFaye, the Guardian of the Shadow Realm, wasn’t able to be here. The pull was too strong, and her responsibilities to her family and her stolen sister too great to ignore. She ventures west with a small group, mostly others of angelic blood.”
“So what is this darkness?” Rowan asked.
“Arael,” Sara said simply.
No one spoke. It was evident to all of them that Arael had been seeking the Turquoise Tower before, and if it had been found and breeched, it was either by Arael or an alarist, and since only an angel could activate it and give wings to those with angelic blood, it made sense. They hadn’t seen any white-winged angels yet, only black-winged, which meant the alarists had been ready and waiting, most likely with scores of half-breeds ready for the change.
“Where’s the proof?” Rowan asked, though Grace thought the fight had gone out of her voice.
“We don’t have any hard proof,” Sara said. “We can tell you first-hand accounts of things we’ve seen, but other than this piece of parchment, we don’t have anything to show you.”
Annbell handed the parchment with the names of the nymphs on it around the table.
“Where did you get this?” Aladestra asked, handing it off to Rowan to her left.
Grace recounted the story of her early travels with the LaFaye youth, and how it had taken her into Betikhan Valley to witness the death rites of the nymphs.
“Those names and ages were given to us there. It wasn’t until later that Mag was able to decipher the puzzle and tell us what it meant.”
“Arael lives,” Azra whispered, nodding her head. “It makes sense.”
“What other stories?” Pyang asked, taking the parchment from Azra, but not looking at it. He handed it to Grace.
“I’ve seen the Beast,” Mag said. There were gasps all around the table.
“How?” Rowan asked, her reserve shaken.
“In the Orb of Aldaras, when Sara was very sick. She was clasping her hands to the orb, and within the surface I saw the image of the Beast.”
“Those relics don’t lie,” Aladestra said.
“Some people might,” Rowan mumbled to herself, leaning back in her chair.
“I think that’s about enough,” Pyang said. “I too have seen alarists destroy my city, and a black-winged figure flying off and to the west after Nanta Lake spilled into my home. I killed an alarist myself. I believe every word that’s being said here, and I say if you aren’t completely with us, you have no room at this table.”
Grace cleared her throat to mask her smile. It was one thing being scolded openly, but to be rebuked by someone who looked little more than ten years of age was something completely different.
Wisely Rowan didn’t comment, or even look as if the words bothered her. She did sit up, however.
“So, what do we do?” Aladestra asked. “What do we know of these angels?”
All eyes turned to Grace. Since she was the one who had been closest to angels, in the form of Sylvie and Pharoh, she was deemed the one to know most about them.
“Well, from what Pharoh and Sylvie spoke of before, I imagine how things work in the Ever After is by energy exchange. Some philosophers think the Goddess has power because of her believers. Without everyone holding faith in her, the Goddess’s power would cease to be. It is through belief that angels derive their power as well.
“If angels don’t have anything to rally behind, they lose their power. So, the Goddess obtains her power through the faith of her people, allegedly, and angels obtain their power from the Goddess. For the fallen angels, I assume their figurehead is Arael. Without him, they would have no power.”
“So,” Rowan said. “What you’re saying is that the fallen are getting their power from Arael, and the angels are getting their power from the Goddess?”
“Precisely,” Grace said.
“Then all we have to do to destroy the power of the fallen is kill Arael?” Aladestra asked.
“Let’s hope Angelica and Jovian are successful,” Annbell said, marking the holy symbol of the five-pointed star over her body.
“And that’s how Arael wants to take over the Ever After,” Mag said, slapping her hands on the table. Everyone jumped. “If he destroys the people’s faith in the Goddess, he can destroy her and take her place.”
“Dear Goddess,” Pyang breathed. “That has to be what’s happening.”
“So if we’re striking at the Turquoise Tower, where Arael is, where is his target?” Azra asked.
“The seat of the Goddess in the realms, the holy see — Lytoria,” Grace said.
“Yes. If he wants to strike a blow at the faith of the people, then he has to decimate the seat of all our faith.” Aladestra nodded. “So, we venture to Lytoria.”
“Look at this one, Rose,” Dalah said. She held up a long green dress sewn in a way that would make the entire body look wrapped in cloth.
“Oh, that’s rather nice,” Rosalee said, winding her fingers through the silk material. Here and there were studs of gems woven so intricately and expertly into the material that Rosalee didn’t even notice them until they glinted in the sunlight of the bazaar. They had only made it to the opening of the covered mall when they found this stall offering “fashion from around the realms” as the sign said.
“That one comes all the way from the Realm of Air,” the shopkeeper told them. She was a slender old lady, with missing teeth and most likely a balding head under the dirty scarf she kept pulled tight over her scalp.
“It is rather nice,” Rosalee said. “How much are you asking for it?”
“Twenty silver,” the lady said.
“Oh,” Rosalee said, letting the fabric swing out of her fingers, and turned instead to a rack of jewelry. “If I’m spending twenty silver on anything, I want it to be from the Realm of Fire. Maybe something in soapstone.”
“Soapstone rings here.” The lady pulled out a flat box lined with various rings of silver, gold, green soapstone, and some other red stone Rosalee didn’t recognize.
Rosalee pushed a lock of graying red hair away from her face and started thumbing through the rings. “How much for this one?” she asked, finding a band of green soapstone she particularly liked.
“Five silver,” the woman said.
Rose chewed on the side of her mouth, considering. In the end she purchased the ring without haggling.
“You didn’t like the dress?” Dalah asked as they left the stall and headed into the shadowed tunnel used to house other storefronts. Some of the stores were permanent, built into cubicles in the tunnel, while others were booths set up in various places along the way.
“I did, I just think it was a little pricey is all,” Rosalee said. “The Realm of Air isn’t all that far away, and isn’t all that different from here. If I’m going to spend that kind of money, I just want something more foreign, I guess.” Rose sniffed, and though it was in contempt, she caught the whiff of cooking sausages and onions. Her stomach growled.
“I hear that,” Dalah said. “How about we grab something to eat and go sit by the basin?” She gestured vaguely toward the Falls of Nependier, which Rosalee could hear, but not see, from where they were.
It was a place Rosalee had wanted to visit for so long, but she’d never made her way to the lake that the falls emptied into. She looked up, but she couldn’t see the mountains from their vantage point. She hadn’t even bothered to look around when they came through the portal to see anything more than the destruction of the Ivory City. It was depressing that she hadn’t, but now that her mind was clearer and she was spending a relaxing day in the company of her friend, it would make their lunch even more special. A small respite from the horror that was slowly becoming their lives.
They followed their noses to a restaurant built into the wall of the tunnel. Behind the counter a man toiled away frying sausages on a hot grill, fire licking up around the links of meat. They placed their orders for sausages with the works, which came with peppers, onions, and mushrooms on a bun.
In moments the man had their food ready; they paid and were on their way, wrapping the tops of their sandwiches to keep dirt from them. Just the smell of the meat in her hands made Rose’s stomach growl.
The basin of the waterfall wasn’t far from the tunnel, and when they made their way out of the bazaar and into the sunlight once more, Rosalee looked up to the peaks of the mountains. Snow covered all of them, and though it hadn’t started to fall yet in the Ivory City, Rose knew it wouldn’t be long before winter hit this more southern location.
The roar of the waterfall drowned out most of the noise of the surrounding city, and Dalah led Rose to a place where they could watch the cold, silvery water empty into the basin. When they sat down on the cold bench, Rosalee noticed the noise of the waterfall wasn’t so loud that they couldn’t talk.
They chatted and ate their lunches, basking in the warmth of the sun, which contrasted with the coldness of the air. When they grew too cold to sit out any longer, they made their way back to the busy bazaar.
“Does it feel colder here?” Rosalee asked. She remembered the warmth from a few moments before caused by cook fires and the closeness of bodies.
“The fires have probably burned down some.”
But Rose wasn’t sure, because as her eyes drifted over the silhouette of a woman further down in the bazaar, her stomach churned. She stopped, pressed her hand to her abdomen, and made a slight noise.
“What is it?” Dalah asked.
Rose shook her head, but that only made the tunnel spin. She stumbled to the wall and held on as the ground kept spinning. She tried not looking at the woman again, but she couldn’t help it. Her eyes fluttered back up to the black-haired woman.
She stood still, like a shadow. Most people ignored her or acted like they didn’t see her, but those who did see her quickly made their way away from her. She stood with her hands folded before her, her eyes closed, and a slight smile on her ruby-red lips.
Rosalee had the distinct feeling that she didn’t want this woman to find her. This woman, this thing darkening the other end of the tunnel with a miasma of power, was very much a predator, and Rose knew that humans were her prey.
“I don’t know,” Rosalee said, but she did know. The voices in her head knew too. “Alarist,” she whispered.
But that wasn’t right either. Now the woman was looking at her, coal eyes staring out of the whiteness of her face.
“Goddess, what is she?” Rosalee asked.
“Who?” Dalah asked.
“That woman there,” Rose nodded down the bazaar. “At the dress shop.”
Dalah looked, and when she saw the woman she hissed.
“Is she an alarist?” Rosalee asked. When she said it the word felt wrong on her tongue, like she knew it wasn’t an alarist at all.
“I don’t know,” Dalah said. “What’s wrong with her back?”
Rosalee hadn’t noticed it before, but her back was hunched, like she wore her travel pack underneath her cloak. No sooner had Rose seen it than her cloak started to move.
Great black wings snapped open from her back with such a thunderous noise that it drew the attention of everyone in the bazaar. The black cloak whispered to the ground as all talking and movement ceased. A chill filled the air. Along the tunnel, the flames of the torches guttered in a wind none of them could feel.
From her wings glowed an eerie light, a darklight, as if the night itself was shining forth from the feathers of her wings. The woman raised her hands and bent them into claws. Thunder shuddered through the air, bringing with it the sound of hundreds of voices screaming in despair into the minds of everyone within the mall.
And then it was mayhem. People were screaming and running from the woman, and though Dalah was tugging at Rosalee, the chaos pumping through the air was felt more keenly by the seer. Rosalee was lost in a wash of chaotic power, her mind turning in on her. The pure energy of her faith in the Goddess warred with the chaos that flowed through her veins.
“I have a message for the Realm Guardian,” the raven-haired woman said, her blood-red lips parting in a smile. “She’s too late. Lytoria will be laid to waste before she can mount a defense.”
“Over my dead body,” Dalah whispered, and a clash of yellow lightning blasted from her hands, sizzling the air
and tingling Rose’s senses. The yellow wyrd struck the shielding of the fallen angel, bouncing off the wyrded force-field in a shower of sparks.
“So faithful,” she said. “You would be a nice little snack.” The woman stepped closer. “Blind faith makes the flesh sweeter.”
Dalah twisted her wyrd, channeled it through her body, and released it with a stomp. The ground began to ripple toward the angel. The fallen flapped her wings once and lifted into the air. Her focus was on Dalah, and that meant the chaos in the tunnel was starting to leave Rosalee. She could see the attack before it came.
“Dalah, run!” Rosalee said. But it was too late. A rumble shivered through the walls of the tunnel, growing in strength until the ground beneath their feet rippled like water. Dalah and Rosalee tried running, but they couldn’t make it in time.
A group of people stood outside the tunnel, watching the two older women struggle across the shifting ground, making their way to the end of the tunnel. No one helped them; they were too afraid of the black-winged creature within. The energy of the woman whispered to their minds.
And then, in a rush of dust and debris, the tunnel collapsed, blocking the women from sight. Wagons on the road above the bazaar fell into the gap opening underneath them. Their wheels were dashed against the stones, and their horses were quickly swallowed in the destruction.
Abagail stood with her husband, Mark, looking out on the paddy field where they grew their rice each year. They were a smaller farm in the northern parts of the Realm of Water, so there wasn’t much need for farmhands and help. It was a local crop that the people in surrounding townships enjoyed, but nothing like some of the other farms.
But still, it was theirs, and they both enjoyed the growing and farming of the rice. It made them a small living, affording them enough money that they didn’t need to find other employment, but not so much that they could travel as some of their neighbors liked to do when winter settled in.
The Turquoise Tower (Revenant Wyrd Book 6) Page 3
