I tried not to meet the stares of the desperate mob. “I’m going to bring you help.”
A rally of pleas ensued.
“Please carry me down with you!”
“You can’t leave us here!”
“Take my baby!”
I put up a hand as a woman tried to shove an infant into my arms.
“Hey, what’s that over there?” asked an old man.
Everyone turned to look at the grand arch where the waterfall used to spill out of the castle. Something big, brown and lumpy was rising into view through the opening.
A wave of fright went through the crowd.
“It’s the red capes. They’re back!”
The woman with the infant screamed and hugged the child to her chest.
“Run!” shouted the old man.
“WAIT!” I shouted. My voice echoed off the walls.
The people froze in startled silence as I walked to the archway. The big, bulbous thing was still rising. It was some sort of heavy material that had been patched in several places. It looked familiar.
Then the bottom of the thing rose level with the archway. It was attached to a giant raft.
“Welcome to Château Larue version two,” said Jules Larue, bowing. He hopped to the edge of the castle and tied off the raft near the archway. “All aboard!” he shouted.
The throng of people approached cautiously. None of them had ever seen a blimp before. The raft was large enough for all of them. At first they were mistrustful, but when they realized that their pilot was the brother of their beloved Commander Larue, they hopped right on.
The raft sank under all the added weight so that the last people to board had to leap down quite a distance.
Mr. Larue whistled. “Chloe was right. There were a lot of people left up here! Hop aboard, Emma.”
He had begun untying the rope. He was waiting on me to jump down to the raft.
I suddenly found it impossible to move. If I left the castle, I really was leaving Lev behind. Part of me believed that he was still back there in the throne room. Even though I knew it wasn’t true, I couldn’t bring myself to make the leap.
Mr. Larue looked worried. He grabbed my hand. “Come on Emma, we have to go. Everybody is waiting. The castle is adrift. Chloe and Garland think it may crash.”
I saw it all again in my mind: the roof collapsing, the duke’s mutated body leering over me, the look of joy on his face as he stood there, flaunting Lev’s torn wings.
I fell.
With a yelp of surprise, Mr. Larue caught me. He let me drop to the raft below where the crowd of survivors waited with outstretched hands. They lowered me gently to the floor of the raft. Their faces surrounded me, looking down with concern. Hands caressed my forehead. A Gnome took out his handkerchief and wiped a smear of blood from my cheek.
I closed my eyes, awash in guilt for having resented them.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s covered in blood!”
“Shhhh!” The Gnome admonished the others. “We must take care of her, that’s all.”
They watched over me as Mr. Larue maneuvered the blimp down to the ground. When we got close, the sound of cannon fire shook the skies.
All the passengers screamed as a cannon ball whizzed by between the balloon and the raft.
“Watch your aim!” Mr. Larue shouted to somebody below. “Try to hit the red capes, not us!”
“Sorry, chief,” shouted one of the Gremlins.
I sat up. The others drew back.
“Maybe you should lie down until we get there,” suggested the Gnome.
“I’m okay,” I said, glancing around at the concerned faces. “Thank you all.” I got to my feet and walked to the front of the raft where Mr. Larue was controlling the thing through a system of rope pulleys. I held my breath and looked below.
All of the fortifications around Woodman’s Hall were still intact. Mr. Tulley and the Terra Cartisans were holding off one ragged group of red capes to the east while the Gremlins fired cannon balls at another group of red capes who had taken refuge in a distant stand of trees.
“Your preparations worked well,” Mr. Larue said. He glanced sideways at me. “We’ve had some injuries, but so far the red capes’ losses greatly outnumber ours.”
“Their losses are not greater than ours,” I said quietly.
A sudden understanding dawned on Mr. Larue’s face. He looked away sadly. “They said there was another one trapped up there with you—the Slaugh king.”
“He’s gone.”
Mr. Larue said no more. He docked the raft beside one of the hall’s raised decks. The survivors began climbing out.
The deck rattled with the sounds of rushing footsteps. Valory, Garland, Chloe and Bazzlejet shoved through the crowd of people going the opposite direction. They ran up onto the raft with the clear intent of ambushing Lev and me, the returning heroes.
They stopped in their tracks when they saw me. I was alone. That said it all.
Chloe clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh…oh no. Oh, Emma…”
Valory’s lips moved, but no sound came out. She took off her hat and clasped it to her chest.
Garland and Bazzlejet gave each other looks of disbelief.
“He can’t be,” Bazzlejet said softly. “Not the big guy. He’s indestructible.”
I met Valory’s eyes first.
“You really are the Slaugh queen now,” I said. “You’re the last living heir of Hagan Winterwing.”
There was no time for tears. I joined the fighters below in taking out what was left of the duke’s forces. By nightfall, all the red capes had been defeated. The Terra Cartisans kept a watch on Ivywild as it drifted towards the distant mountains. The castle was listing badly to one side. There was some talk of trying to board it and regain control, but that was quickly squelched by higher priorities. There was food to gather and injured to tend to and prisoners to keep a close watch over. Woodman’s Hall was a little rebel camp no longer. In only one day, it had become the new capital of Faylinn.
The sheer number of people now living at the hall made it impossible to go anywhere without being surrounded. There was only one private room in the whole place. It was a cool, dark root cellar most recently inhabited by the late Slaugh king. In a quiet moment, I slipped away there to rest.
The room looked exactly the same as when I’d gone to apologize: the hammock, sagging between two support beams, a table with sheaths and an assortment of knife cleaning tools, and a tattered black jacket draped over one rickety chair.
I went and lifted the jacket from the chair, running my fingers over the threadbare collar and the sleeves with their third round of patches sewn to the elbows. Lev hadn’t worn it in some time—had practically outgrown it, in fact. Even so, it was the very essence of him, distilled into a symbol. He’d been wearing it the night I found him.
There was a lump in one of the pockets. I reached inside and pulled out a little wooden figurine. It was a miniature version of me. He’d bought it as a joke a couple years ago from a vendor in Larlaith. I’d completely forgotten about it. He must have been carrying it around all this time.
Something ripped open inside me. The tears I’d been holding back came on full force, dragged to the surface by a scream. I sank to the floor and rocked, letting the sorrow take me to a place I’d never been. The world could turn without me, just this once. Tonight I belonged to grief with all its pain and its confirmation of life. I am still here. I live and I feel and I hurt, but I’m still here.
I cried until there was nothing left, then climbed into the hammock and wrapped myself in the jacket. I lost track of the hours as I lay, staring at the ceiling. Sometimes I buried my face in the rough material and drank deeply of Lev’s scent. Sometimes I just lay still and thought.
I couldn’t get a handle on anything. Questions swirled up into my mind like sand grains in a storm. Everything was so fragmented that it was useless to try and put it together. I gave up trying,
letting the fragments carry me away.
Eventually I slept. My weary body forced it upon me. At first I was fitful, waking every few moments, sometimes crying out. Then, as fatigue won over, I slipped deeper into the kind of rest where memories could not torment me. That’s when the dreams came.
In my dreams I was the Nameless Beast again. All the little bits and pieces of my life force flowed freely on currents of light. There was no struggle, no sorrow, just infinite tranquility as I wove myself into the flow of the world. I was connected to everything. In knowing that, I knew that the people I’d lost were, too, and so I was connected to them. They were still out there somewhere, just little pieces of light like stars strewn across a galaxy.
And then, something new entirely.
A string: golden, shining. One tiny line thrown into sharp contrast against a blank backdrop—blank, but not empty. I got the sense I was looking at the tiniest fraction of something, like one single dot of color in a vast, unknowable painting. I followed the thread, but got nowhere. I was missing something. There had to be more to it.
Don’t follow it. Just let it take you.
I relinquished control, letting the thread slide by me. That’s when I realized it wasn’t just a flat line, constrained by two dimensions. It went up and down and side to side as well, forming the nexus of an incomplete pattern.
Not incomplete. Look.
No, not incomplete, nor even a single thread, but one among many, forming a giant web.
This is my gift. Use it.
I opened my eyes. All was quiet and still. I sat up and looked around to make sure I was really awake. My surroundings convinced me that I was back in the real world, but part of the dream stayed with me. Somehow, the golden web had imprinted itself in my mind. If I closed my eyes, I could see it clearly.
Lev? I thought back to our final embrace in the throne room. For a breath of existence we had been one entity. I wondered if pieces of him were with me even now.
It was the only thing that could have stopped my grieving. I began to sleep normally after that and to feel hunger and soreness and all the other things that regular people had to deal with. When I felt strong enough, I left the little cellar.
My friends handled me carefully. I sensed their awkwardness around me. Everyone knew to tread lightly and nobody dared to ask questions that might upset me.
Whenever I tired of the delicate handling, I retreated to the cellar to think. Now that the wheels in my mind had started turning again, I had plenty of things to mull over.
I still had the dagger. I had not yet carried out the task handed to me by Marafae and echoed by Lev. I must use it to destroy Robyn.
But how? And what did Lev mean when he told me I had the power to lift the curse on Seraph’s Tear? Most importantly of all, what was Robyn trying to do? Why had she pulled the tree from the ocean?
Questions. Always questions. I paced the room and stretched my shoulders, rolling them as though I could expand wings that weren’t there.
***
It had been three weeks since things had settled down, and already Chloe was at her wit’s end. There were so many people around and they all needed things. Still, she'd take overcrowded, under-stocked Woodman’s Hall over the human world any day. Things had certainly changed, though. Living with the Slaugh was quite an adjustment. At least Valory was a compliant queen. Her brother’s death rocked her so much that the other Slaugh had come to accept her. She was one of them now, and much as they were lost without their king, they would have been hopeless without her—especially little Noemi, the youngest Slaugh. Valory had taken the girl under her wing and now they were inseparable.
“Vistkern!”
Chloe turned her head in surprise as Violet stormed into the room, looking very red in the face.
“What does that mean?” Chloe asked.
Violet tossed a wad of bandages angrily to her desk. “I don’t know, but I’m tired of getting called that! Every time I try to help that blasted Katriel with her wound, she goes off on me and starts shouting things in Slaugh. She’s the worst patient I’ve ever had!”
Chloe was amused. She’d never seen Violet so riled up. “Have you tried a silver horse feather?”
“I’ve tried everything short of jamming a porcupuff needle into her neck. Her wound won’t heal on its own! Part of the arrowhead is still in there but she won’t let me touch it!” She flopped onto her bed and crossed her arms. “I’m taking a nap.”
“You do that,” Chloe said, rising from her spot by the window. They shared the hall’s most spacious bedroom with their mother. Chloe didn’t enjoy it much. The whole place was just so cramped. It wasn’t going to work, not for the long term.
She passed Tobin Leboux on her way outside. He was acclimating quickly to life in Faylinn, but caring for his mother took up much of his time. Kiros had suffered much more than she let on at the hands of the duke. Chloe wondered if her worst injuries weren’t in her mind. She had been forced to do monstrous things. People were dead because of her.
“Hi, Tobin,” she said as they bumped into each other on a stairwell. “How is your mom?”
He glanced away briefly. “She’s…well. Well as can be expected. She’s been asking about home a lot—New Orleans, I mean. I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could take her back soon, is there?”
“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “Without a working Pyxis Charm, there’s no easy way.”
Tobin sighed. “Guess I’ll miss the playoffs. Oh well. My team was crummy this year anyways.”
Chloe hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about. She went on her way, nodding greetings to others she passed. She had to fake a smile as she passed a woman with a baby bump. There was a lot of that going around and she really didn’t appreciate it at the moment.
It was a relief to reach the outdoors even though the midsummer air was stale and smelled of the hard-baked mud on the exposed forest floor. Dead trees lay bleaching in the sun.
Aha. I knew you’d be out here,” Bazzlejet said. He joined her in the shade of an overhead deck.
“What’s the latest on Ivywild?” It was always the first thing she asked him.
“Still drifting. It’s a miracle it didn’t crash after that last attempt. At least we learned how not to pilot a flying castle. The Gremlins and I are rigging up something else. It should be ready soon.”
Chloe had learned not to get her hopes up. Even if they could safely land the castle, it would take a long time for it to be habitable again. “Well one thing is for certain: we can’t stay here much longer. Food supplies are dwindling, space is already a problem and selfish, inconsiderate nitwits keep deciding to make babies! What’s a queen to do?”
“I dunno. Ask Valory. She’s a queen.”
She wished she had something to throw at him. It was therapeutic. She had learned to act the proper lady in front of everyone else, but with Bazzlejet she could bare her claws and he didn’t seem to mind.
“You’re lucky we’re surrounded by dried out wood,” she said. “Otherwise I’d torch you.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he said with a grin. The effects of Kiros Rubedo’s alchemy had worn off, but it was quietly understood by everyone that he was at least as powerful as his uncle had been.
“I saw Emma out today,” he said in a more serious tone. “She was talking to Lord Finbarr. She seems different.”
“Of course she’s different,” Chloe said. “You would be too if you’d been through what she has.”
She understood what he meant, though. The changes in Emma went far beyond the ravages of mourning. Chloe felt for her deeply. At first, when she’d seen Emma hurting, she tried to be gentle and give her plenty of space. Now she didn’t know what to do. Emma didn’t seek out anybody’s company. When she did pop up unexpectedly in the common areas of the hall, she looked so distant that nobody approached her.
Chloe had watched her from afar one day. She marveled at how differently Emma c
arried herself. Strangely, she seemed more graceful. Not exactly light on her feet, but more attuned to the space she took up. The expression on her face was intense. If Chloe had been a young child, she would have thought Emma looked mean. Certainly the lowered brows and the tightly set jaw didn’t speak of kindness. But Emma was kind. Chloe knew this, so it perplexed her that she couldn’t reach through the new layers her friend had wrapped herself in.
“She hardly talks to anyone,” Bazzlejet said. “When she does, her voice sounds different. She’s just not herself. I miss her the way she was…you know, spunky.”
Chloe tossed her chin. “I’m spunky enough for both of us. Emma’s the same Emma she’s always been and she’s still our friend. Don’t you go criticizing her! She’s just got a lot on her mind, that’s all.”
Bazzlejet opened his mouth to say something else but then he clapped it shut and looked sheepishly at something over Chloe’s shoulder.
Chloe turned. Emma was standing in the doorway.
“Don’t look so surprised. I haven’t been here long.”
She did sound different. So gruff. So Straightforward. It threw Chloe off-kilter. “Um, glad you came out to join us.”
Emma stepped out of the shade. She passed between Chloe and Bazzlejet and looked down at the parched forest. She’d lost a fair amount of color. Usually by this time of the year she had a tan.
“What’s on your mind?” Bazzlejet asked.
Emma crossed her arms and looked at both of them. Something in her gaze made Chloe feel like a small child. She wriggled uncomfortably.
“We can’t stay here.”
Chloe perked up. “That’s just what Bazzlejet and I were talking about! I mean, I guess you know that since you were listening, not to imply that you were eavesdropping, I mean—”
“I was eavesdropping,” Emma said. “I didn’t hear any ideas, though.”
Bazzlejet shrugged. “That’s because we don’t have any.”
“I do,” Emma said.
“Really?” Chloe asked, growing excited. “Where are you thinking?”
“Seraph’s Tear.”
Bazzlejet burst out laughing. Chloe found the idea ridiculous, too, but Emma had said it with such conviction.
The Flute Keeper's Promise (The Flute Keeper Saga) Page 46
