“After that episode, we ran into each other in similar fashions several times more before my parents and I realised it only made matters worse.”
“It was about then, whilst wandering the streets of New Washington, I inadvertently met my future wife Alba. As of that moment, any handiwork on behalf of my parents ended. I was lost to love. Alba was everything I had never had. Her beauty ensnared. Her kindness, an intoxicant I was unable to refuse. I drowned in her eyes and knew nothing but she. I was even happy for a time.”
“Losing me to another, even if it love, was the final straw for my parents. There was nothing left for them on a world they knew would soon consume them. They became so disillusioned that they took their own lives. They left me nothing but a note to explain it.”
“I am sorry, Jean. That must have been hard for you.”
“It was,” I said turning away from her in shame at my show of emotion. “It affected me greatly, still does.”
“How did they do so?”
“Do what?”
“Take their own lives.”
“They wished to see the sun. The two of them decided on an irreversible course of action: they stepped into the light of day. All the Hierarchy found was their clothing and the aforementioned suicide note addressed to their son.”
“The sun?” she said, a little surprised.
“Yes, the sun,” I repeated in a huff.
“But the sun does not kill.”
And like that first drip of blood down one's throat after too long an absence, realisation struck. How could I have remained blinded to the fact after my own enlightenment? My parents could not have perished in that fashion. My head whirled. A universe of stars twirled above me, disparate constellations melding together into one ever-brightening point. The cosmos congealed into a single blazing orb that banished the darkness and the dullard I'd been.
“Murdered,” I mumbled.
“Pardon?”
“Murdered,” I said again, more to myself than my companion. “My parents were murdered. I did not see it.” I punched the step in frustration splintering the wood. “What a fool, Aurora! What an imbecile I've been! I have accepted what I wanted rather than sought the truth. I have taken the easy way out.”
“How could you have known? You cannot blame yourself, my friend.”
“But, I do.”
Like a parasitic ivy clambering for life, I hauled myself to my feet and paced the drive. A booming clap of thunder echoed my mood. Saturated, my cloak wrapped itself about my wet frame like the huddled wings of the raven I resembled. What remained of my world unpicked at the seams.
“The Hierarchy hated my parents, despised them even. Almost any of them could have done it,” I ranted. “My parents' words had upset aeons of Eternal life. Who wouldn't have wanted them silenced? Permanently,” I added. “I have allowed my disenchanted heart to believe what was simplest to accept. How they all must have laughed at the vagabond son!” I bellowed into the rain. “How they must have shared secret smiles as the one person who would've dared rock the boat, sank with it. They have laughed at me for decades as I've drowned in their lies.”
“But you have resurfaced, Jean,” Aurora said, rising and walking to my side. “You have learned to swim. No more floundering for you, my friend. Now you can remedy the past, right those wrongs. You can be that which they feared. My people had a belief that in time immemorial the raven would escort the souls of the dead to the afterlife. Perhaps, that is your purpose? Perhaps, you are the eternal darkness that those in power feared, not the blazing fires of light from a dying sun? At least, you could be.”
I looked into those ice-blue eyes, unblinking, non-judgemental, and knew I could.
* * *
I mulled Aurora's words, my mood dire, wrestled with the demons of a past I'd sought to cage. Could they ever truly be silenced? Pacing back and forth across the crunching gravel, Aurora fixed on my every move, I made a decision I should have made the instant my parents passed away. I would kill them all and tear apart the Earth to do so.
A sound dispersed my anger with an incessant buzz like a bee trapped in a bottle. Something Aurora held in her palm awakened: Merryweather called.
Chapter Thirteen
-
Brown
“Answer it then.”
“I do not know how.”
“What do you mean, you don't know how?”
“Walter did not show me.” Aurora held the metallic object at arm's-length as though it would turn on her at any moment. “Walter.” She tried speaking to the thing. “Walter, can you hear me?” There was no response until the thing buzzed again.
I snatched the metal rectangle from Aurora's outstretched hand and shook it: nothing. I tried yelling at it myself, then prodding it with my finger.
“About bloody time!” came an incorporeal, exasperated voice.
“Merryweather, is that you?”
“This is the ghost of your dead brother.”
“I don't have a brother, idiot.”
“Hmm, it was the best I could do on the spur of the moment.”
“Where are you?” I blurted.
“Oh, that's charming, that is! I risk life and limb on your behalf and that's the greeting I get. Not even a lovely to hear from you.”
“Walter.”
“What?”
“It's lovely to hear from you. Now, where are you?”
“That's more like it but keep your voice down, will you. I'm in a rather delicate situation.”
“I'm sorry about that, but can't you just answer the question?”
“I'm trying. God, how I'm trying.”
“Try harder!”
“Shh. I am currently heading north.”
“Well, that's brilliant. At least I know not to head in either of the other three directions.”
“Put me on to Aurora, you're driving me insane,” he hissed.
“Me, driving you insane, that's rich!”
“Just do it,” Merryweather whined.
I passed Aurora the device. She held the thing as though it contagious like supporting a dead rat.
“Walter,” she whispered, “Aurora here.”
“Ooh, this is all very clandestine.”
I had to restrain myself from snatching the thing back and trying to throttle the life out of it. Fortunately, Walter decided to get on with it.
“As I tried to explain to that grumbling crow, I'm heading north.”
“From what point did you set off?” Aurora asked.
“That's more like it, what a sensible question. I'm glad I'm talking to you and not, Jean.”
“You'll be talking to my fists in a minute!” I called out.
“Will you tell him to pipe down, I'm in a rather delicate situation here,” he whispered back.
“Where are you?” Aurora asked again.
“As I am trying to say, I'm heading north. Currently, and you'll just have to take my word for this, I'm hidden in a very large sack full of bags of blood.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?” I called out again.
“Aurora,” Merryweather hissed. “Will you please tell him to shut up. I really am where I say, heading north, as I say, in the back of some sort of uncomfortable horse-drawn trailer. I would like to add that it is all for his bene…”
The miniature device fell silent all except for an incessant background buzz. Aurora looked most perplexed by it and offered me the metallic speaker. I took it with a grimace and gave it a slight shake. “Walter, are you there?” I whispered. No response was forthcoming. I tried again. “Walter?”
A few more shakes without an answer persuaded me to put the damn thing down before I vented my frustration upon it. The device sat hushed, motionless on the wooden step between myself and my albino companion like a pebble thrown too far from the beach. We took turns in giving it prods, several hard stares and a shaken fist or two before ultimately becoming bored with the thing. The infuriating buzz continued but nothing else. Aurora
draped the edge of her cloak over the speaker device to protect it from the rain, but I was already well past caring.
“Do you think that's it?” she asked.
“Who knows?”
“Did we learn anything?”
“No,” my curt reply.
“Hmm, I thought it might just have been me.”
“It wasn't.”
“What now?”
“This,” I said, picking the thing back up. I was about to hurl the infernal device into my overgrown jungle of a garden when the voice from the aether returned.
“Aurora?”
“Yes, Walter, I'm here,” she replied, snatching the thing out of my hand.
“Can't talk, but in answer to your question, the north we set off from was Vladivar's castle, and we've picked up guests. Follow as soon as you can. Merryweather, over and out,” he added with a girlish giggle. The device cut to a buzz before Merryweather returned from his momentary sojourn. “I've always wanted to say that. Don't take too long because I'm developing ice in places a man really doesn't wish it. Oh, and Aurora?”
“Yes, Walter.”
“Please hurry, my back's killing me.”
The device went mute at that point. The buzzing sound faded away like a regretful sigh, then disappeared altogether.
Aurora gave the speaker a quizzical look, raised one sculpted eyebrow, then dried it off on her sleeve and inserted it back within her clothing.
“What do you make of all that?” I asked.
“I believe Walter to be within a large sack, whilst travelling north with many people.”
“Yes, I gathered that much. What I meant was do you believe him?”
“Why would he lie?”
“It's his nature.”
“I think he is misunderstood.”
“That's one way of putting it.”
“I think he tells the truth just in his own unique way. We should follow him and be quick about it.”
“I agree. I just wish I knew if the Marquis was with him.”
“He said they'd gained people, not lessened. We can presume the Marquis is therefore still with them.”
“He won't be far from someone who'll protect him, I know that much.”
“A coward,” Aurora suggested.
“The worst kind, a coward with means.”
“I do not understand?”
“The Marquis is a man of science in the mould of my parents, and a one-time collaborator with them. He possesses the keys to secrets nobody else on the planet understands.”
“Not even you?” Aurora asked.
“No, my dear,” I laughed into the downpour. “I am definitely no scientist even though I took more than a passing interest in it when younger. I know enough to get by, but that is all.”
“I see,” Aurora replied running her fingers through her sodden hair. “And this Marquis holds the secrets to your recent situation?”
“I believe if anybody does, it is he. But if he's found an ally in Raphael, as well as the other ties I suspect him of, then we have problems. Although, to be honest, I'm still shocked my erstwhile brother-in-law ran away.”
“He did not run away because of my harming him,” Aurora stated.
“He did not!” I said surprised.
“He ran away through shame, Jean. He was a beaten man from the moment he realised I was not this Alba. I do not believe I have ever seen such sadness, nor ever will again.”
“Then you suspect the next time we meet that will not be the case.”
“Most certainly, I would think quite the opposite. A man does not like to be bested by a woman no matter how powerful she is. Grella is testament to that.”
“Grella?”
“He wishes to be King, Jean. He has wished it for a long time. He desires the ruby necklace, the mark of our people, with a passion barely contained. But he could never destroy our mother in combat, she is far too powerful. He is ashamed of that fact. I saw a glimpse of that selfsame shame before the weaker sex in Raphael's eyes.”
“You see a lot,” I commented.
“I see only what is there to be seen.”
“I doubt anyone would deem you as weaker than a man, though.”
She cocked her head to one side in her beguiling way and considered my words. “It would be inadvisable,” she eventually said, and almost smiled.
“Well, either way, finding Merryweather is our most pressing concern. Locate him and other issues shall fall into place. At least, we must hope they will.”
“Agreed,” Aurora declared, rising majestically from her place on the steps.
“Good. Now where's that flying machine?”
* * *
Merryweather had concealed the flying platform in the rear garden, which by then was more labyrinthine forest than pruned perfection. He and Aurora had covered it in broken branches, much to my annoyance at having to remove them and the thorns which proliferated. Once cleared, we both mounted the machine. Aurora stood poised and ready to fly, whilst I busied myself extracting said thorns from more places than I cared for. I waited for Aurora to set everything in motion and waited and waited. The look she cast when nothing happened did not reassure me of her ability to do so.
“And…”
“He said to press the red button,” Aurora replied.
“Then, do so, dear girl.”
“That did not work well for you.”
“I suspect if Merryweather said it would, then it will.”
Aurora reached out towards the aforementioned red button with an outstretched index and gave it a tentative push. The machine reacted in instantaneous levitation, tossing off the remains of the strewn flora, and shooting straight up into the sky. Aurora grasped for the handlebar contraption whereas I, with nothing solid within reach, fell pinioned to the floor like a rag doll stood upon by some giant's boot. However, there was no arguing with results, we were well and truly off. Up and up the machine shot through the dark rain clouds like a lightning bolt reversed. We rose until coming to a juddering pause several hundred feet from the ground, made a full turn, as previously, then rocketed off in a direction I sensed to be north-east. My stomach headed in another direction altogether, as from the look of it, so did Aurora's.
“Well done, Aurora, I knew you could do it,” I declared.
“I did nothing,” she replied hair streaming out behind her like flowing, white satin. “Are we headed in the correct direction?”
“Depends on your definition of correct. If it means, where Merryweather stemmed from, then yes. If it means, the right way to be headed, I would give a resounding no.”
“I take it this Vladivar is not a man you favour.”
“Do you not know of him at all?”
“I don't know of anybody other than my family and my mother's people.”
“You say your mother's with disdain. Do you feel no affinity with your Nordic kin?”
“Yes, and no.”
“You sound just like Merryweather,” I laughed. “No offence meant,” I added hastily.
“None taken.”
Aurora stared off into the horizon. I took it as a please don't ask again type situation. It was of no concern, as I, too, lost myself in the view. We had risen so rapidly that the mountains we should have had to clear were left as nothing more than geological markings on a map. In fact, we had gained such altitude, I was rather glad being an Eternal meant not requiring breath, unless it did? I was never very good with such things.
A landscape of snow-white crags atop grey rock stretched out before us. I thought it would have been beautiful if I'd known it to contain hidden life, but there was something depressing about a landscape devoid of such things.
With nothing left to distract me, I took to brooding, a speciality of mine. Knowing that over some distant northern horizon Linka was perhaps looking southward to me was hard to accept. Had I done the right thing in deserting her? Would those that sought my manipulation simply not dispose of Serena themselves and in doing so Linka
, too? The questions flitted through my mind as though snowflakes in a breeze. I had few if any answers, and none definitive. My brain insisted I'd done the right thing; my rocklike heart disagreed. Perhaps, given the opportunity of being able to steer our metallic steed, I should have done so and shot off to seek her. But, as per usual, I had no choice in the matter and resigned myself to instead tracking down Merryweather, and via he, the Marquis, the man I felt pivotal to my situation. Every moment that fattest of foes remained beyond my reach increased my anger toward him. Our day of reckoning, which would come, would be most unpleasant, for him, that I promised myself.
“What is that, Jean?”
Consumed by my musings as I was, Aurora's question took me by surprise. I peeped over the railing to where she indicated to see the writhing ugliness of the Volga/Tigris conjoined rivers. Like a varicose vein, the waterway pulsed in angry resistance to the world around it. How I abhorred it.
“That is the demarcation between the waltzers and the warriors,” I replied after some thought.
“Pardon.”
“East and West, an overt longing for life on one side and death on the other, or it was.”
“Was?”
“Our friend, Vladivar and his accursed bride.”
“Ah, the mists disperse.”
“Good, you can explain how the hell it all happened then.”
“I do not believe I can do that,” she said shaking her head.
“I was being sarcastic, Aurora.”
“A trait you share with Walter.”
“I suppose so, it's all we've got in our joint fight against the fashionable and foolish.”
“We've?”
“I meant me really, but I'd admit to Merryweather not fitting either of the other two categories.”
“And, this Vladivar?”
“Oh, he's no fool, and he's most definitely not foolish.”
Hunter Hunted (The Eternals Book 2) Page 12
