Afterlife

by Fairleigh, Lindsey

  She handed out masks as quickly as she could make them, offering the last one to me. Next, she passed out wet suits.

  The others started to undress, but I just stood there, staring down at the mask and wet suit in my hands. I could feel the panic resurfacing, mixing with the pain and dizziness to make my stomach twist.

  I closed my eyes, picturing Nik.

  He would be feeling just as bad as me. Worse, probably, since he had a real, live physical body, not just the Aaru equivalent of one. If I ever wanted to see him again, if I ever wanted to ease his withdrawal pains—even if I wouldn’t exactly be me anymore—I would have to suck it up, grow a pair, and jump off the damn cliff.

  I turned my back to my companions and shed my clothes robotically until I was down to my bra and underwear. I squirmed into the wet suit and zipped it up, then retrieved my sword harness from the ground and shrugged into it.

  When I turned back around, everyone was watching me. Waiting for me. It was like they weren’t sure I would actually go through with this, and their scrutiny of me sparked my defiant nature.

  I would show them.

  I fitted the mask on my face, marched straight through the archway, and ran toward the edge of the cliff. I didn’t stop, and I didn’t scream . . . but I did jump.

  25

  Deep beneath the raging sea was a strange place. At first, there was nothing but darkness and the unrelenting pressure of all the water above me threatening to crush me. Strangely, I welcomed the pressure; it was uncomfortable enough to partially override the pain that had become an ever-present part of my existence. And the darkness was almost peaceful, the muffled water sounds slightly hypnotic.

  I closed my eyes and floated a few feet off the bottom of the sea, letting the gentle current sway me this way and that. It was the first time I’d been able to get out of my head in ages, to just be, and I savored the moment.

  Until the overactive, freak-out part of my mind weaseled its way in, whispering about monsters lurking in the darkness.

  My heartbeat sped up, my breaths coming faster. My eyes snapped open, and I twisted around and around, searching the darkness. But I couldn’t see a damn thing. I couldn’t even see my hand when I waved it right in front of my face.

  Barely holding the surge of panic at bay, I thought a waterproof head lamp into existence and, with fumbling fingers, slipped it on over the uppermost portion of my mask.

  The world that lit up around me was far from anything I’d expected, and I made a slow circle, scanning my surroundings. There were no sea monsters. In fact, there didn’t seem to be anything alive down there at all. There weren’t even any coral reefs or underwater plants. There was just the smooth, gently sloping ground.

  A shadow crept into the edges of the pool of light from my head lamp. I screamed, but the sound was captured by my mask, making me the only one to hear it. I kicked out my legs, propelling myself backward. And ran into something.

  Hands gripped my arms, and suddenly I was being spun around.

  I yelped and came face-to-face with Dom, his features warped by his mask. I craned my neck to see the creature I’d been fleeing from only to find Mari frog-paddling nearer, a head lamp of her own in place.

  Dom gave me a gentle shake, pulling my attention back to him, his mouth forming inaudible words. It took my brain a few seconds to puzzle out what he was saying—Are you alright?

  My chest still heaved with those panicked breaths, but now that I was no longer alone, my heartbeat was slowing, and my thoughts were less frantic. Finally, I managed to nod.

  Dom released me as Mari drew nearer. She held out her hand, giving us a thumbs-up.

  I nodded again, returning the gesture, and Dom did the same.

  The twins joined us next, then Joju, and then Anapa and Re. Once we were all gathered together, head lamps and flippers in place, Joju kicked away, waving an arm for the rest of us to follow.

  At first, there was no change to the scenery. The slope of the seafloor shifted this way and that, remaining as smooth and featureless as ever. So far as I could tell, Joju was leading us in a seemingly random direction.

  But then the ground changed, growing fuzzy. I angled my trajectory lower to get a better look. As I drew closer to the seafloor, my eyes widened.

  It was grass. Soft, green, park-like grass.

  I looked at Mari, who was swimming alongside me, just slightly farther from the ground, and mouthed, “What the hell?” Why was there grass underwater?

  She shrugged, as confused as me.

  I pushed off the seafloor, and we continued on, rejoining the pack.

  After a while, lighter spots separated from the darkness at the farthest reach of the glow from our head lamps. They were evenly spaced in pairs and appeared vaguely round at first, but the closer we drew, the more detail they took on.

  In a blink, they were no longer floating silver-green blobs, but trees lining a broad avenue. The road itself was made up of flat paving stones that gleamed a pearly white when struck by our light.

  Joju kicked his legs faster, heading straight for the treelined avenue. I took his renewed energy as a good sign. Hopefully we were getting close to the anchor point, because I was running out of oomph to keep me going. My brain had normalized the constant pressure from the tons and tons of water covering us, and the withdrawal pains had returned at full force, front and center in my thoughts. My limbs lagged, and my mind was numbed by the pain.

  The others sped up, keeping pace with Joju, but I just couldn’t do it. I fell behind, their collective pool of light slowly drawing farther and farther away from the glow of my lonely head lamp.

  Mari was the first to notice my absence, and the light from her head lamp swung around as she searched for me in the dark water surrounding her. Suddenly, she was swimming twice as fast as everyone else. She caught up with Joju as he made his way between two trees and tugged on his arm. I could just make out her sharp arm gestures, and I figured she was telling him to hold up and wait for me.

  “Thanks, Mars,” I murmured, sluggishly kicking my way through the water. I was beat . . . absolutely dead tired. If we’d still been on our feet, walking, my legs would have given out by now, and I figured this little underwater adventure may have been something of a saving grace. I could kick my legs once, propel myself forward, and just drift for a few seconds before working up the strength to kick again.

  Finally—an eternity later—I reached the trees. I stared at one as I floated past, entranced by the emerald leaves swaying gently in the current. Underwater. Looking healthy as could be. Because once something was created in Aaru via its strange thought magic, that thing remained for all eternity.

  Mari caught me as I drifted past her, hooking her arm through mine. She flashed me a tight, closemouthed smile and gave my arm a squeeze. “You can do this,” she mouthed, raising her eyebrows and nodding her head for emphasis.

  Blowing out a breath, I returned her nod, not feeling nearly as confident as she looked.

  Joju waved a hand, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. He pointed to the road, then held up his arm like it was the road. He crossed his forearms, one over the other in an X, then pointed to the place on his arm where they’d converged. It took my sluggish thoughts a moment to puzzle out his meaning, but I eventually figured out that he was telling us there was another road perpendicular to this one, and that we were heading toward the place where they intersected. That must’ve been where the anchor point was.

  I took a deep breath. I just hoped it was close. My tank was empty, and I was running on fumes.

  Apparently, that fact was obvious to the others, because when Joju pushed off the paving stones and started swimming away along the road, I didn’t even have the chance to attempt to follow on my own. Mari refused to release my arm, and Susie hooked her arm around my other elbow. When the two women kicked off, they took me with them.

  Even slowed by the burden that was me, the three of us swam faster together propelled just by Mar
i and Susie than I would have been able to move on my own. Any time I tried to help by adding a few kicks of my legs to theirs, Mari would scowl at me and shake her head. After a while, I stopped trying and just let them drag me along.

  It wasn’t long until the first buildings came into view. I stared around in wonderment, awed by the graceful lines and intricate carvings. The pearlescent stones looked as though they’d been laid only yesterday, but the style of the structures was clearly ancient.

  The buildings grew taller and more densely placed as we made our way deeper into the city. Joju had created this place for our people a long, long time ago. It was both haunting and beautiful and, in a way, quite sad. This city had never really been inhabited. It seemed like such a waste of a masterpiece.

  But then I remembered that Joju had built much more than this lost city—he’d built all of Aaru—and his legacy was far from forgotten.

  I stared up as we passed under a series of delicate white stone arches.

  After the fifth arch, Mari tapped my shoulder. When I looked at her, she pointed to the way ahead.

  I looked to where she was pointing.

  There was a stone stairway at the end of the road, leading up the side of a mound the size of a house. At the top of the mound stood a rough-carved stone archway.

  Relief flooded me, giving way to a rush of excitement. Mari didn’t scold me when I kicked my legs, propelling us ahead faster.

  The anchor point was right there. Isfet’s grove was within reach.

  I sobbed a laugh, my whole body trembling.

  We made it.

  26

  Supported by Mari, I pulled off my flippers, then walked through the archway and into the grove. The change in pressure was immediate, a relief beyond words. But that relief paled in comparison from finally making it here. I pushed my mask up and stared around in wonder. The grove was just as I remembered it from the echo-dream.

  A seemingly endless forest of tall, slim birches stretched out all around the archway, their white trunks encased in a crystalline, ice-like substance that reminded me of At but was too transparent, lacking the moonstone sheen intrinsic to solidified At. The ground was covered in a thick blanket of glittering powder too light and fluffy to be snow, and the air was cool but not cold, just this side of not showing my breath. High over the treetops, the ends of the immense, silvery branches of the great tree—of Iusaset—stretched out like they were reaching for everything that lay beyond the grove, their copper and gold leaves flickering as they shifted in a hidden breeze.

  We paused in the small clearing surrounding the anchor point to shed our underwater gear and change into dry clothes. I thought my usual jeans and tank top into existence, along with black combat boots and all the necessary underthings. Instead of my usual black leather coat, I recreated the long, charcoal-gray shearling coat I’d abandoned on the hilltop a couple anchor points back. Though the ice and snow here weren’t exactly what they seemed, the air carried a distinct chill that left me shivering. Or maybe it was the unrelenting agony making me shiver. I honestly couldn’t tell anymore.

  I slid my arms into the coat, then snuggled in, glancing around at the others as they made the final touches on their outfits. They had all created clothing appropriate for mild weather, which caused the corners of my mouth to turn down in a frown.

  Joju said something to Re, who nodded once, then looked at me. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah,” I said with a nod.

  Though, in reality, I wasn’t sure how I would make it all the way to the great tree, where Isfet dwelled. My legs felt as weak as if I’d just run back-to-back marathons, and the pain coursing through every inch of me made it hard to focus on anything else for more than a few seconds. I almost envied Nik’s ability to let the pain drive him into unconsciousness.

  Before I could even consider asking for help—probably a good thing, since asking for help wasn’t really one of my strengths—Dom slipped an arm around my waist and pulled one of mine over his shoulders.

  I flashed him a quick, halfhearted grin. “Thanks,” I said, hating that his aid was necessary, but I was relieved to have it nonetheless.

  Dom’s eyes met mine, and I was surprised to see no hint of pity or sympathy or even compassion. The only things I could see shining in his eyes were hope and pride—a whole shit-ton of both. He believed in me. At seeing his unrelenting faith, I thought that maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to believe in me, too.

  There were no paths through the woods surrounding the great tree, but Joju led on without hesitation. I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he’d walked these woods. How many years had he had to memorize this place? How long had he been the only Nejeret in Aaru? Hundreds of years? More? Long enough that despite the thousands and thousands of years he’d spent exiled from this place, he still knew his way around by heart.

  We walked for who knows how long. I’d lost my ability to estimate the passage of time about ten anchor points ago. The pain had long since reached the level where even seconds felt like an eternity, and all moments blurred together, the only defining points being moments of change.

  So, based on that new form of logic, we walked through the forest of birches forever, until Joju sparked a moment of change. Without warning, he broke away from the group and rushed ahead.

  I forced my eyes to focus on the woods ahead rather than the bases of the trees nearest me. It was difficult, what with the dizzying way vertigo made the world sway this way and that.

  There was a break in the birch trees up ahead, and I could just make out the massive trunk of the great tree, the bark shimmering dully like tarnished silver.

  My heart rate lurched to a gallop as excitement flooded me with a burst of strength. I slid my arm off Dom’s shoulder and pulled away, stumbling ahead on my own. My feet moved faster and faster, until I was running. I tripped over my own feet every few steps, but at least I was closing in on the clearing surrounding the great tree. On the place where I was bound to find Isfet.

  Joju came into view first, kneeling on the ground between two roots as tall as SUVs, his face upturned, his expression one of pure, rapturous adoration.

  A few steps later, Isfet was visible too, as tiny and pale as always, standing directly in front of Joju. She stared down at him, delicate hands cupping either side of his face, her delight at their reunion impossible to miss. It was clear that she cared for Joju deeply and that she was overjoyed to see him.

  As I drew nearer, Isfet slowly bent over and placed a kiss on Joju’s lips. She said something in a language I couldn’t understand, and a tear streaked down her pale cheek.

  Joju covered her hands with his and murmured her words back to her, and I didn’t need to understand what they were saying to know they were exchanging sentiments of love.

  I suddenly felt like a voyeur imposing on such a touching, private moment. I slowed to a walk, my burst of energy fading and feet returning to their leaden state.

  Isfet turned her hands, gripping Joju’s, and pulled him up to his feet. Standing, he towered over her. They looked somehow right together—like an ancient Celtic warrior and his beautiful Druid queen.

  A moment later, Isfet turned to face me, the joy fading from her brilliant blue eyes and her expression turning grim.

  I stopped at the edge of the clearing, leaning on the trunk of a birch tree for support, chest heaving as I panted for breath.

  Isfet released Joju and lifted the hem of her long, silky white shift as she carefully picked her way over exposed roots toward me. “Greetings, Katarina. You have come a long way to see me,” she said as she approached, Joju trailing behind her. “And no doubt you have sacrificed much. Tell me, what has happened to bring you here in such a state?”

  My head felt too heavy for my neck, but I somehow managed to find the strength to hold it up enough that I could look Isfet in the eyes. “The Mother of All,” I said between heaving breaths, “and the Netjers—the makers—they’re here.” I swallowed
roughly. “And they want to destroy us.”

  “Mother . . .” Fear flashed through Isfet’s eyes, but it quickly gave way to rage. She stopped directly in front of me, Joju hanging back a few steps. “Show me,” she said, reaching out her hand.

  My shoulders sagged; I was immensely relieved at not having to actually explain everything that had happened over the past couple weeks with words. Gods, I was tired. With a sigh, I raised my hand and placed it in hers.

  The sensation of Isfet rummaging through my mind was far less uncomfortable than it had been when Iusaset had done the same. But I could still feel her, sifting through my thoughts and memories, analyzing my innermost feelings. And while her mind wasn’t as open to me as Iusaset’s had been, I could glean a few pertinent things from the surface.

  Like the fact that she was afraid—terrified, actually. She feared she wouldn’t be strong enough to beat the Mother of All. Her mother. The being who had given her life, only to lock her away moments later. Despite her immense power and virtually infinite capabilities, Isfet’s potential had long gone unrealized. The vast majority of her existence had been limited to this grove, her only experiences of the greater universe coming from the few seconds she’d had pre-Aaru and the things Joju had shared with her later, after he’d joined Isfet in her eternal prison.

  But despite it all, she had the spirit of a warrior. Neither her sheltered existence nor her fear of the Mother of All would keep her from defending this universe as best she could. I admired her tenacity.

  Without warning, Isfet withdrew from my mind. She released my hand, offered me a small smile, and bowed her head gracefully. I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew what I’d seen . . . if she knew that I’d felt her fear.

  “I must apologize,” she said, raising her head to look at me once more. “I did not trust you entirely before. I did not believe you would put this universe first, before even your own life. I did not understand that you would sacrifice yourself to save all that you hold dear. I could not see that we are the same in that, and that your intentions are the purest of all”—she held out both of her hands to me—“and for that, Katarina, I must ask your forgiveness.”