"I don't really know any of you, and worst of all, I don't really know myself. I only just got these." I flapped my wings, rising a few inches above the ground and then settled down again. It made my head spin. "I'm really just starting to figure out how to use them. And now I've got this freaking Bounty on my head."
"Ah yesssss, the Bounty."
"Is Cosima behind it?"
"Cosima!" Mastyx laughed so hard he pounded his fists on the dry grey earth. "Cosima..." He licked a tear from his eye. "You really are quite funny."
"So she isn't behind it?"
"She can't keep track of her own life, let alone organise the entire Void in a Bounty hunt. I also don't think she's capable of the power it would take to drain you of yours."
"I thought she wanted me dead after I stole that skin for you and kicked her ass."
"Oh, she'ssssss mad at you, alright," Mastyx hissed, "But her anger will burn itself out. She'll probably try to attack you if the opportunity presents itself, but as I said to you then; you can take her.” He paused and scrutinised me. "Especially now that you have that lovely sword."
Crap. The sword. In the craziness of the last couple hours, I had forgotten to keep it hidden. I looked myself over; my coat was open and flapping in the ever-present breeze, my hair was half out of its ponytail and matted with blood, which left the hilt of the sword visible. I slowly did up my jacket and pulled the elastic from my hair. I attempted to run my fingers through it, but there was too much blood. I probed my scalp with my fingers and winced when I found a large gash on top of a sizeable bump.
Mastyx sighed loudly, “Stop fretting, darling, it's nothing you can't heal."
He was off the sword, and I wanted to keep him that way.
"Yeah, but I probably need stitches. Where am I going to get those?"
"Stitchessss?" The scaly ridge above his eyes rose with scepticism. "Are you not the great healing Traveller? Why don't you run some power through it or something?"
Whoa. I hadn't thought of that. I could heal it myself.
"Right, right, just testing you." I began to draw energy into my hand.
"Not here!" Mastyx shouted as his hand encircled my wrist. "Are you crazy, girl? You start using your power here, and you'll be strung up and delivered to your hunter in moments."
His face was very close to mine. As his tongue flicked, I could feel the air move against my lips. I may not know all of him, but I knew the look in his eyes. They were full of genuine concern.
"Who put out the Bounty?" I asked in a hushed voice.
"If I knew, I would tell you," he replied, the moment stretched out between us while he held my wrist. "You are so very interessssting." There was a strange tone to his voice, I couldn't place its origin, I opened my mouth to ask him about it, and he sprang back. "You must get back to your home and heal that grotesssque lump on the back of your head." He was back to his usual self, all pomp and poise and wicked grins.
"Okay." The pain in my skull was now a deep throbbing pulse that made my blood feel thick and lazy. "I'll be off then."
"Darling, you really know nothing about what you are." He came to stand beside me and pointed to something in the distance. "You have to use one of those or the others will track you."
He was pointing at a stream.
"That does not look fun," I replied.
"And it isn't.” We started walking towards the stream. "But you really don't have a choice right now. If you Travel from here, they'll track you, and if you heal that cut here, they'll track you."
He grabbed my head and sniffed the back of my skull. I pushed him away.
"Gross, Mastyx."
"Maybe, but by the smell of things that wound is going to fester if you don't get to it very soon."
"Can you heal yourself?"
"No." He looked away. "I cannot."
We had reached the stream; the air here seemed so much colder. The water was jet black, and its surface looked like a fast running river frozen in time. There were currents visible on the surface, but they did not move. I had one more question for Mastyx before I made him explain how this whole Travelling by stream thing worked.
"So what happens to the creatures here that can't heal themselves, what do they do if they're injured?"
"We come see you."
I didn't have time to register my shock at his answer because no sooner than the words left his mouth, he pushed me into the stream. He called after me in a laughing, sing-song voice as the black water sucked me down.
"Just think of home, darling, think really hard!"
23
Good god, it was cold. It was colder than anything I had ever felt in my life. It clawed at my skin, the pores themselves trying to rebel from the icy attack. It was thicker than regular water, and my quickly numbing limbs fought against its molasses-like texture. I tried to find the surface, but everywhere I looked was the ebony abyss of the stream. I flapped my wings and kicked with my legs as my lungs began to burn. The stream was so narrow, the sides had to be close, I thought. This is the Void, another thought answered, nothing is as it seems. I was beginning to move more slowly in the icy darkness. A voice, louder than the others, rolled through my brain; if you don't get your head together, you are going to die here.
"Just think of home, darling, think really hard!"
Was Mastyx right? Was that all it would take? Just think of my beloved home, and I would be free of this pitch black hell? The cold had made my arms and legs numb, and I could no longer feel my wings. I forced myself to stop fighting the water and to go limp. The water supported me, and I tried to ignore my desperate desire to breathe. That could wait, I told myself.
I remembered what Silverwood had taught me and called forth a clear image of my home. I pictured it as it looked from my gate, every window, every brick, the greenhouse, the big carved doors, and my gargoyles. I went through every detail and let them feed my heart as I lay in the darkness.
A giant popping sound, like a plug being pulled, reverberated through the water and I started to spin.
It was slow at first, a smooth circle that made my arms and wings rise in the water. It was disorientating in the complete darkness, and I started to get nauseous again. The water kept swirling, faster and faster, and soon my body was drawn out into a tight line, my arms beside my head and my wings stretched above me, their tips touching, feathers splayed. As the speed increased, it became apparent that I was also being pulled down, as if through a massive drain. My body wanted to fight the current, and my brain battled between panic and resignation. Faster and faster I swirled, drawn ever deeper into the inky black water. The speed seemed to double, and the pressure of the water on my body began to push out the last bit of oxygen I held in my lungs. I couldn't go on much longer, but there was nowhere to go. No escape. I was going to die here in this swirling pit of liquid despair.
My lungs screaming in agony, I couldn’t fight the impulse to breathe. Thick icy water filled my mouth and consciousness left me.
24
Air hit my lungs like a train; the warmth of it was painful as it forced its way into my frozen lungs. I coughed, and water flowed from my mouth. I struggled to open my eyes, and I saw jet black fluid pooled beneath me. I choked down air as quickly as I could. With the air came fire. It hurt like hell. My fingers felt like they were submerged in flame, my wings blistering as my toes melted. Through the pain, I tried to take in my surroundings. I saw a sandy path covered in dappled sunlight, I heard birds.
I was home.
Well, not quite. I had to get through the gate before I would be safe and in my current condition, there was no way I could walk there. So I did what I had to do. I crawled.
Unfortunately, I am no stranger to crawling. The last time I'd had to crawl like this I was trying to save Archer. This time I was saving myself. I needed to get warm, fast. With quaking limbs, I began to put one hand in front of the other. My wings were limp and dragged along side me, I looked back at them to find that all my feathers were
ruffled and some were missing. I took one half-numb yet burning hand and reached up. My nearly useless hand found the hilt of my sword, and I moaned with relief. This sound forced the last vestiges of water from my lungs and once again I found myself in a pool of jet black water.
I made myself keep moving, my wings leaving a trail behind me in the sandy path. I could see the gate up ahead, and I redoubled my efforts, making my burning toes dig into the sand to help push me forward. I got to the edge of the gate and placed my hand across the line. It screamed with pain, and I pulled it back. The warm waterfall feeling of the gate that usually met my skin now felt like a thousand blades against my defrosting flesh.
I pushed myself up with my arms and sat back on my heels and looked at the gate. The wicker arch that framed the gateway was about a foot deep, if I tried to crawl through it, the pain would be beyond intense. I didn't think I would make it. The only way this was going to work was if I threw myself through the gate making the agony timeframe as short as possible.
My legs were still too weak for walking, but maybe they could keep me standing for a few seconds. I grabbed the wicker arch, careful not to pass into the pain zone, and using a hand over hand technique I pulled myself to standing.
I got my feet under me and positioned myself to jump through the gate. I let go of the arch, bending my knees to leap, but the weight of my limp wings began to pull me backwards, and I pitched forward to counterbalance, over corrected and found myself falling forward towards the gate.
The good thing was it was quick. Well, the first part was. My upper body passed through the curtain of tiny knives and was soon clear of the gate. However, my lower half was still in the gateway. I screamed and tried to kick my legs free, but I couldn't move them. I began clawing at the ground, trying to pull myself forward. Between the weight of my wings, the pain in my legs and weakness in my arms, I didn't have enough strength to pull myself out of the gate.
So I just laid there and screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
I don't know how long I screamed for, it could have been an hour, it could have been sixty seconds. I was consumed with screaming and pain until I felt two pairs of little stone hands under my arms, pulling me forward.
I think I managed to say thank you before I passed out.
25
The sea was angry with me. It knew my sins and gladly took the body I gave it.
The waves rolled over me, dragging me down and then throwing me up into the air so that I spun in the cold spray only to smack down again on its unyielding surface. I ached all over; I could feel cracked bones rub against each other in my rib cage. Any moment now my neck would be broken, and I would be helpless as the water pulled me under.
How much longer would it make me wait?
26
"Switch!"
It was a hushed command full of urgency. It pulled me from my dream, and as I regained consciousness, I could hear the quick patter of stone feet on the tile. The undulating light and warmth of what could only be a fire licked at my eyelids. I opened my eyes a tiny amount and saw a small stone gargoyle jump into the fire and settle in amongst the logs burning there. At the same moment, I felt a warm, firm creature wriggling under the blankets that covered me.
"What's going on?" My mouth was paper and the sound so reedy and small I wasn't sure they would hear me.
"You're awake!" Grog cried from his seat in the fire.
"Yay!" chorused Brog from under the blankets. He crawled to the edge and stuck out his tiny dented skull. "We thought we'd lost you!"
"Back to work, Brog," Grog chided. The tiny gargoyle yelped, dashed under the blankets and settled against my stomach. I felt like the marrow in my bones had turned to ice, and the warmth of his stony body was wonderful. I patted Brog's head, and he snuggled in closer.
"So what happened? How did you guys get me here?"
Here was in front of my fireplace. The boys had pulled over a stack of pillows, which I now lay on, and it felt like every blanket in the house was piled on top of me. They had built a big fire in the massive fireplace and Grog stoked the flames from his seat within them.
"We carried you, lady." Grog replied. "It wasn't easy, it was hard to get your wings to stop flopping around."
"One of them hit me in the face!" Brog called happily from under the blankets.
"Thank you, guys. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't been there."
"Eventually, the gate would have burned through your legs." Grog said grimly.
"Wow. That would've been bad."
"Yes, lady." He looked so strange sitting calmly in the fire as flames licked his face. "What were you doing that would cause these injuries?"
"Injuries?"
"Yes, the hypothermia and the cut on your head."
"Right, I'd forgotten about that one."
"My lady, what is going on?" Grog stood, the flames framing his barrel chest.
"You can't ask her that!" cried Brog from deep within the blankets.
"Switch!"
Grog practically shouted the word. Both Brog and I jumped, but he did as he was told and crawled from the blankets and into the fire. Grog shuffled past him as he spoke.
"Yes, I can, Brog." He came over and settled on top of the blankets, draping as much of himself as he could over me while still making eye contact. "We have been with you for so long, my lady, if anything happened to you what would we do?" A pebbled rolled from his eye and hit the floor, the sound of it bouncing along the stone echoed through the room. "We already lost you once, we cannot bear it again." More pebbles. "Please, Phoenix, what is going on?"
Perhaps it was the use of my name, or maybe it was Brog sobbing quietly in my fireplace, I don't know, I felt like a mother hen with a big decision before me. I thought sheltering them from the Bounty was the right thing to do, but I had forgotten about what they had been through with me. I had rescued them, taken care of them and then one day I just didn't come home. And that one day had stretched out to thirty years. I couldn't let that happen again. They had to know about the Bounty, they had to know about the danger I was in. They would be totally alone if anything happened to me.
"Alright, I'll tell you what's going on." I took a deep breath to centre myself, I needed to get straight to the point. "A Bounty has been placed on my head. The entire Void is aware of it, and they are all after me. I am wanted alive, so that's something." I knew they were made of stone, but at that moment they truly looked like statues. Scared statues. "Guys, it's okay. I know who put out the Bounty and once I've healed these injuries, I'm going after them."
As the words left my mouth, I realised they were true. I did know who put the Bounty out on me. Big G, Ganaraj, the ultimate douche bag. He definitely had the power, he'd almost bested me in the Circle, and he had the manpower to find me, his Minions had proven that. Yep, it had to be him. Which meant there was only one place I had to go.
"The City of Caves," Grog whispered.
"What?" Man, this gargoyle was quick.
"I can see it in your eyes." As he continued, Brog crawled from the fire and joined his brother. "You think, Ganaraj is responsible for the Bounty and you're going to his kingdom to confront him."
Brog let out a tiny yelp and stuffed his stony fingers in his mouth.
"I don't think Ganaraj did it, I know he did. He's the only one with the power to make it happen." I sat up. The room didn't spin, and my stomach stayed calm, yay me. "I'm going to the City of Caves because I have no other option. I am not going to hide here and pray this blows over, I'm going to attack it head on. I will not be a prisoner in my own home." I pulled back the blankets and the gargoyles scattered. I sighed deeply and tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "I'm going to be fine, maybe not good or great, but fine. I've survived worse things."
"I don't know if you have." Grog's voice was quiet. "The City of Caves is a terrible place."
"Yes, Grog," I said sternly, "You keep telling me that."
I got to my feet, t
here were a few lingering stars in my eyes, but on the whole, I just felt stiff and sore. I looked at my wings, they were still heavily ruffled, and more feathers were missing than I remembered. I touched the back of my head and found an egg-sized lump there. That would have to go.
"Guys, when I was here before, did I have a special place or something that I used to heal my own injuries?"
The gargoyles looked at each other. Brog snickered.
"What do you think the greenhouse is for?"
"Oh, right."
I left the two gargoyles giggling on the hearth.
27
I hadn't spent much time in the greenhouse. In the few weeks that Archer and I spent here, we mainly went from the bedroom to the living room to the gate. As I stepped into the humid room, I wondered why we’d ignored it.
It was a phenomenal space. The glass walls were densely covered in vines that reached all the way to the vaulted glass roof sixteen feet above. The vines weaving in and out of each other created a latticework of textures in various shades of green. At the ceiling, cables spanned the width of the room, and the vines continued along them making the sunlight stream through in slices to the floor below.
I stepped barefoot onto the grassy floor. The ground was soft and yielding like a field after a spring rain. I dug my toes into the grass, it felt marvellous. A winding path led through the multitude of flowering bushes, shrubs and trees that filled the body of the greenhouse. I followed it through twists and turns towards the central clearing that was the heart of the space. Amongst the rustic plants, I passed lovingly tended flower beds and beautifully groomed bushes, and for the first time, I wondered who was taking care of this amazing space. It certainly wasn't me, I had barely been in here since I left my mortal life, yet here was a very well-tended greenhouse. A big question for another time, I thought as my bruised head gave a lurching throb.
Bounty Of Ash (The Phoenix Series Book 2) Page 10
