“How did you know my name?” Fia asked.
The valley stretched out around them, barren mountains lining its perimeter. There were trees clustered here and there, but other than the river, it was mostly an uneven expanse of grass and rock. Turaunt was a tiny grey dot in the colourless landscape behind them.
Alexander tore through excuses, the silence stretching out between them the longer he searched for the right words. “What do you mean?” he finally replied, walking ahead. Coward.
“When I fell through, you were there, and I want to understand.” Fia jogged to keep up with him, her head in line with his shoulder. She brushed hair from her eyes and smoothed it back.
He straightened and continued walking.
“Did you help Sophie?” she asked flatly.
Alexander said nothing.
“Hey.” Fia pulled on his arm. “Why won’t you look at me?” Her cheeks reddened, but he knew the flash of pink rising up her chest and neck wasn’t from shame. “These mood swings are starting to get old,” she said, her voice tinged with anger.
Alexander sighed, looking at the sky towards the sun dropping behind the mountains. How could the angels protect Ohinyan when the sun died? What if the third sun didn’t appear for weeks? Why did his scholars seem to know so little? He needed answers, and the witches might just have them.
“What did Noor tell you about angels?” he finally asked.
“She told me what angels do for Ohinyan. She said that in my world, angels set our spirits free.”
“So, you know most of it already.” I was too late to save your sister. He knew what she wanted to hear.
The grass was sparse here, and the rocks were tricky to manoeuvre across. Fia lost her footing, but Alexander caught her arm and steadied her, his face inches away from hers. His wings pulsed against the air, balancing them both.
“Tell me,” Fia said, looking up at him.
Alexander took her pack as he pressed on. “I was looking for you. The witches have been searching for you for some time. But the night I found you, you went out in the rain…on the back of a motorbike, and you crashed.” His voice was quiet. He was careful with his words. Fia knew every painstaking detail of the night her sister died; there was no use repeating it. “Where possible, in your world, we try to help the deceased’s spirit. There are too many cases where we cannot, where we don’t get there in time. In your world, you would refer to them as ghosts. Unhappy spirits who cannot leave because they are tied to things from when they were alive, bound to them. Some can become bitter and tormented because they are stuck in an in-between state—somewhere between life and death. We help them to let go.”
Fia wiped a sleeve of the woollen wrap against her face, though he knew she’d tried her best to disguise it.
“So…Sophie, you helped her…to let go?” she asked.
“Yes. Sophie left peacefully, Fia. She asked me to watch over you.” He tried not to rush his words, it was important to Fia, but it mattered to him, too, that he explained it right. He shook his head. “I stayed for longer than I should have. I watched you grieve, the way you’d lay down in the park talking to the stars. Or how you’d cry, whenever you thought Henry wasn’t watching. I could see how cruel and unfair you felt the world was,” he finished. He was bracing himself, for anger, resentment, for all the things he’d imagined over the last few days when he couldn’t bear that he’d deceived her, for encroaching on her life without her knowing.
Fia didn’t look at him, and he felt his stomach twist. Instead, she fixed her eyes firmly on the ground. His heart was beating fast and loud. Her silence would be the end of him. “And I…I decided I couldn’t ask you to come here, to a world you knew nothing about, so I made my way to the nearest window.” His words were rushed. “But then you saw me, I mean, I didn’t know if you could see me, and you followed me right to the window. I didn’t catch you quickly enough, and you hit your head, I…” He stepped forwards. He couldn’t read her expression. “I’m sorry. I was sent to find you.” He chewed his lip as he waited. His apology sounded like an empty shell of a word and nothing more, but he hoped she knew he meant it.
“Thank you,” Fia said quietly. “For Sophie…and for looking out for me, for saving me.” She wiped her sleeve against her eyes again and walked on.
The sun disappeared behind the mountains, and three moons were visible in the sky to the east of the valley. “I couldn’t see you, you know, not properly, just glimpses. I thought I was going crazy. Why couldn’t I see you?” Fia finally asked.
Alexander’s frown eased slightly. “There aren’t many in your world that can. Those that know we are there—children or adults who are more aware of their surroundings than others.”
“So, I’ll be able to see you when I go back. Angels, I mean?” Fia asked.
Alexander dropped Fia’s backpack and the tent Jonas had given them. “Yes, I suppose you will.” He unpacked the tent at a spot beside the river. He thought about saying more, but decided against it. Every way he phrased it in his head sounded foolish.
“So now, will you tell me what the witches want from me? Why were you sent to find me?”
“After we’re set up here?” he asked, almost pleaded. Was he selfish for wanting just a few more moments like this, before he told her the truth and ruined everything? You should have told her…that first night she was in Ohinyan. You should have told her everything.
Fia nodded. They set up the tent quickly. It was comprised of two layers, one of animal hide and the outer made of fish scales, sewn together by hand. Fia hammered in the stakes whilst Alexander attached a string to the end of some arrows.
The sky was clear, and the moons cast a pale white glow over everything. Alexander felt Fia’s eyes on him as he tested the strength of the knots, fastening the loose end to the bottom of his bow, but she said nothing. He stood on the riverbank, shooting arrows at glittering targets, one after another in the dim light. As he pulled on the strings to draw the arrows back to the bank, each had a small silver fish on the end of it, flicking and thrashing in the moonlight.
She has every right to be angry. He glanced over his shoulder. Fia had built a fire, and she knelt beside it as she struck two rocks together. Had she learned so quickly from watching Noor? The woollen wrap fell low around her shoulders, and she’d scooped her hair above her head like she’d often worn it back on Earth. He thought of how her body had pressed against his in the cave, of the fullness of her lips, of her kindness with everyone they’d met.
“Tell me, please,” Fia said the moment he sat by the fire to prepare the fish for cooking.
Alexander chose his words carefully. “They think you can help. A great darkness is making its way into Ohinyan, one that has been trapped for many, many years.” He concentrated on the fish as he spoke. “Its name is Erebus, and he whispers to any who will listen. To the Makya, to the witches, to many of the creatures in Ohinyan, as he waits patiently for our sun to die.”
“Erebus?” Fia paled at the name. “It sounds like he’s recruiting.”
“Erebus is preying on the insecurities of the vulnerable until he escapes.” Alexander wiped his hands on a cloth Fia passed him.
“How do you defeat an ancient darkness—or prevent him from escaping?” Fia asked, brushing a hair from her eyes.
“We’re working on that.”
“But that still doesn’t explain how I fit in to all of this.”
Alexander caught her gaze. “I think you might know by now that the creatures…the animals you’ve been hearing back on Earth…it’s not in your head. You’re not crazy, but it is still a very unique gift. One that was just an old tale here, for many years. But for the witches, it’s more than that. It is a prophecy.”
“You knew about the voices?” Her eyes flashed, but he couldn’t tell if it was anger. “What does the prophecy say?”
Alexander placed each fish onto a stick to hang across the fire. “That an Earth girl will unite the creatures of Ohinyan aga
inst an ancient darkness, or something to that effect.”
“By talking to them?” Fia laughed, or more scoffed at him. What was so funny about such a thing?
“Don’t underestimate the power of communication, Fia. It is a connection, an energy that makes us feel seen, understood. Imagine what that might be like for those that have never been able to communicate with outsiders before, like the Aurelli. A time of uncertainty lays ahead, and this world will need to come together if it is going to survive.”
Fia was quiet. It was the truth—coming together might be the only thing that could protect the creatures of Ohinyan from what was ahead.
“Don’t you ever get cold?” Fia finally asked as they ate, her eyes moving from his bare chest to his bare feet. She pulled the woollen wrap around herself as she stared.
Alexander laughed. “Our skin is thick and strong. It keeps us warm when it’s cold and cool when it’s hot.” He picked up an arrowhead from her pack, pushing it hard against his chest. When he took his hand away, the arrowhead was flat and crumpled.
Fia coughed on a piece of fish. “So, the angels in Turaunt…”
Alexander looked into the glow of the fire, throwing the remains of the fish into the flames. It hissed and spat. “They were burnt,” he said quietly, as he watched the carcass shrivel. He pushed back a memory, too painful and raw to think about.
“That’s so awful,” Fia whispered.
“It’s nothing compared to what I’ve seen in your world. People attacking each other for nothing more than looking different, children starving when their neighbours’ tables are full and overflowing. I’ve seen so much death there, and there have been many times when I did not want to return. Life has a natural cycle here in Ohinyan. We are born, we live, we die, we return to Ohinyan, and so on. Like our sun.” He shifted his weight onto one elbow, the flames flickering in his eyes. “But in your world, people are more like the Makya. They want to own everything. They do not return to the world when they die, but they linger, attached to their possessions, to their people, and get…stuck.”
“We’re not all that way,” Fia said softly.
Alexander lifted his eyes from the fire to meet hers. Golden flecks glittered beside green in the firelight. “No,” he said, after a while. “You’re not. And we would never assume that. If we stopped what we were doing in your world, your spirits would never be free. That’s something we would never allow to happen, as long as we exist.”
Fia stared into the fire. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, what she made of all of it. “Would you like to practice?” He’d risen to his feet, holding out her bow.
“Yes.” She beamed, and Alexander handed her the weapon, trying to hide the smile he knew tugged at the corners of his mouth.
He stood beside her and drew his own bow. “To the tree,” he said, steadying his feet and taking aim. He stilled his wings as he released the bow, and his arrow sunk perfectly into the target.
Alexander watched patiently as Fia fired arrow after arrow, this way and that, none of them hitting the tree. After the sixth arrow missed, he laughed. At first he thought Fia was angry, but then she laughed, too. She fell to her knees, shaking with laughter.
“I haven’t heard you laugh since…well, for a while.” He kneeled beside her. Strands of red hair swept across her cheeks, and she scrunched up her eyes as she laughed. Fia stopped to look at him. They were close again, and he ached to feel her body against his.
“It’s a wonderful sound,” he said, brushing the hair from her eyes. Her eyes met his, and then her gaze dropped, and she stopped laughing.
He brushed a thumb against her bottom lip, fighting the urge to press his mouth against hers. You can’t do this. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...” He held Fia’s hands, helping her to her feet.
Alexander dragged his hands through his hair again. Fia began to say something but bit down on her lip instead.
“It’s late,” she finally replied, her eyes fixed at the floor. “I should get some rest.” She walked to the tent without looking back, and Alexander felt as if the ground had fallen out from under him.
Chapter Thirteen
Fia
Don’t get in the way of his responsibilities, Fia told herself the next morning. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Alexander she could hear Erebus, or that she thought it was him. What could Alexander do, anyway? No one could protect her from her own mind but herself. And after what Alexander had said about taking the leadership role for his sister, Fia didn’t want it to be another thing for him to worry about. If she was going back to Earth, it wouldn’t matter, right? But the way he’d touched her…she shook away the thought. Don’t get in the way.
It didn’t take long for them to dismantle their campsite. Alexander made an envelope from a leaf beside the riverbed and dropped purple berries inside it. “For the road.” He was gentler this morning, the sulkiness was gone, but he still kept his distance.
And the sulky behaviour made sense now—it was guilt that had driven it. His responsibilities seemed to weigh down on him, as if he thought every decision he made was closely observed. She asked me to watch over you. That’s what he’d said, about Sophie. When he set her spirit free. Sophie left peacefully, and it was because of him.
They pressed close to the river as Jonas had told them to, until the dying sun was high in the sky, disguised behind a thin layer of white clouds. The landscape had remained bland since they’d left Turaunt, and the mountain range loomed over them as they approached. Trees were sparser, no birds sang, and only Fia’s footsteps in the dirt made any sound.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, about the prophecy, I just—”
“Felt like an asshole?” Fia smiled. “I know you didn’t know how. I understand.”
Alexander rubbed at his neck. “Well I, I didn’t—”
Fia pushed an elbow towards his ribs and raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, it’s fine. I think we both need to learn to open up a little.” She grinned at him and his face cracked into a smile.
The trees gave way to rock, and the dirt road became stone steps before them, cut into the mountain. Alexander told her stories of Earth, of people and places he’d been. The stairway narrowed as they walked, and the rock was cool underneath Fia’s hands as she steadied herself against the mountain walls on either side of her.
“What will happen when the sun dies?” she asked.
Alexander helped her over a fallen rock. “We don’t know. Our scholars believe we will be in total darkness for some time, but for how long, they can’t say.”
“That’s a little concerning, isn’t it?”
“It is of great concern, I assure you.” A frown etched his brow, and Fia knew better than to push the topic. Alexander was with her, instead of figuring out what to do when the sun died. And if she turned out to be a big disappointment…she couldn’t bring herself to think about it.
As they reached the end of the stairway, the walls ended, and a fierce breeze whipped at Fia’s hair. They studied the map before stepping out onto the pass.
“We could try this way. It might be quicker.” Alexander pointed to a valley, marked out in inky lines on the rough parchment that broke away off the side of the pass. “Bridgevale.”
“Sure.” Fia was only half listening, as she shot an arrow at a root winding down from the rock above. Only angels travelled to and from Earth, Alexander had said. What if she couldn’t go back?
“It isn’t wise to waste arrows out here,” Alexander said as he collected her fallen arrow.
Fia smirked. “Who says it’s a waste if I have a glamorous assistant to collect them?”
He smiled as he handed back the arrow, holding onto it for a moment before she could snatch it away.
They made their way across the pass towards Bridgevale. They couldn’t see much of what was below them—a thick fog had rolled in over the mountains, concealing Bridgevale in a film of grey. Fia could only see a few feet in front of her. Even though the sun
was still high in the sky, the light didn’t touch the rocky areas beneath them.
There was no sign of wildlife here; the wind was too harsh. Not a single spot of green escaped from the crag as they clambered uncomfortably down the mountain side.
It was dark and wet down in Bridgevale. Dead, grey trees were dotted around them, jutting out from inky pools of water. Through gaps in the heavy fog, as far as Fia could see, were hundreds of stone bridges of varying shapes and sizes and levels of decay. Some were set across great expanses of water, others sunken into the ground. It was as if someone had taken every bridge ever made and brought it here to rest.
She stepped carefully into the fog, her feet sloshing in the shallow water beneath her, and the stench of stale water hung in the air. Alexander hovered at her side, a few feet above the ground, his great wings beating silently as he flew. As they pressed on, the sun disappeared altogether, and the clouds and fog thickened. Fia pulled the woollen wrap around herself. It was cold and lifeless down here, far creepier than the catacombs of Highgate cemetery. Only Alexander’s presence beside her kept her from running back up into the mountain.
She stepped up onto a crumbling bridge but spun around at a splash in the water behind her. “What was that?” she whispered, as Alexander drew his bow.
“I don’t know,” he whispered back, edging further onto the bridge. A low rumbling broke out from below them. Fia caught a glimpse of something black and drew her bow, but there was nothing in the thick fog.
Another splash and Fia ran to the edge of the bridge to look. Part of the side wall had fallen away, and she could see straight down into the water. Below in the darkness and the swirls of fog hugging close to the water’s surface, she could make out the silhouette of an animal. Like a panther, she thought, but much bigger, pacing about in the shallow water, glaring up at her. As it moved, this way and that, its body shimmered in and out of existence, like it was made entirely of smoke. At least it wasn’t made of fire.
The Third Sun (Daughter of the Phoenix Book One) Page 11
