Alexander loosed a breath. “I think we need more than a few changes. After the disruption with the scholars, all that we’ve learnt. Things can’t go on the way they have. An archaic title doesn’t do me any favours as leader of our people.”
Asharians bustled about on the dock, short fur, whiskers and oval eyes, tails swishing behind them. They were known throughout Ohinyan for their quick tongues and their absolute contempt of any other race, the angels included. He caught sight of a whiskered face he recognised, stood waiting for them in the harbour, arms folded across an impeccable black jacket with fine gold detail, a long tail swinging idly behind him. “Ahrek is waiting.”
Djira’s harbour was bustling with life. The fishing boats were coming in for the day, each with a Makya illuminating their route, their great nets dumping their catch onto wooden pallets for the cart boys to haul away, huffing and straining against the weight. The stench turned Alexander’s stomach. Djira’s far wall ensured it was sheltered from the rest of Ashar, but that meant trade with the south was slow. Few risked the ascent by foot these days. So the Djirans had come to rely on fish and whatever vegetables they could grow in their terraced gardens amongst the stone houses—much to the delight of the local birds who were a constant nuisance across the city.
Noor and Osara were already on the dock, and Alexander had no doubts they were searching for anything unusual, any sign of trouble, as he had been. He didn’t miss the glances between them though, or the way Osara’s slender hand brushed lightly against Noor’s back as they passed each other for a second time on their patrol.
“I’ve asked the others to follow in small groups.” Maab stepped up beside Alexander and Malachai, surveying the dock below. Nords were not welcome in most parts of Ohinyan, but Maab—none of the Nords, for that matter—ever acknowledged that fact. He wore his armour, and Alexander wondered if he’d changed into his tiger form even once on the journey here; if it was clawing at the Nord’s skin to break free. Even as a man, Maab had a wildness about him. The same wildness his mate, Enne had had too. When Alexander’s friends had told him Fia had spoken to Enne on her visit to see the sky spirits, the guilt had almost crushed him. Why had he got to see Sophie and Fia hadn’t? Why had her sister come to him instead?
“A wise decision, my friend.” No use drawing more unwanted attention to themselves. As it was, their small group would stir more gossip amongst the locals. And they’d already compromised Okwata’s position here enough. Runa joined them, her arm hooked through Altair’s as if she were steadying the old man.
His face was bright as they approached, his dark green eyes still dazzling. “Shall we?” Altair asked, gesturing for Runa to lead the way. The breeze rustled her clay red feathers, and she flashed a grin at her husband before leading Altair down to the harbour.
Malachai followed his wife, and Maab stepped in line beside Alexander as they took up the rear. Although they had no reason to fear an attack in Ashar, they all still carried weapons. Even Altair walked with his battle staff, although these days Alexander wondered if it was more to help the old man walk than to fight. He’d fought well, though, against Lorn and her renegade troops. The old man had wielded that staff as if he were Alexander’s age.
A smile tugged at Alexander’s mouth. Perhaps it was part of the act—let people think he was an ageing man so that he could be an even more formidable opponent when needed. So that he could catch an enemy off guard. It seemed like a tactic Altair might employ, but still, Alexander kept a close eye on his old friend for any signs of an ailment he might not have shared with them.
Magic hummed through Alexander’s veins as they made their way to Ahrek, and he felt Noor step into line beside him.
“Your magic troubles you?” she asked quietly.
Alexander let out a quiet breath, his gaze following a group of young Asharians playing with sticks and a wooden wheel. Trin. Alexander and Malachai had played it many times as boys. “I’d have liked more time to experiment with it, to teach the other angels, but I need to preserve every drop if there’s to be any chance of opening the gate.”
Noor inclined her head in understanding as they reached Ahrek. The Asharian didn’t even wait for them to speak, he simply nodded a greeting and darted away through the streets for them to follow, the children scattering around them in fits of laughter as one of them lost control of the wheel.
“And how long until he gets sick of his post and leaves us all in darkness? They’re all the same, the Makya will turn us to ash the moment we turn our backs on them!” an Asharian spat nearby. He stood beside one of the large mirrors, a Makya soldier stationed beside it. The mirrors had been placed throughout the city so that they only required a few Makya to keep Djira illuminated, and the harbour needed several mirrors to keep it bright.
“What is your quarrel here?” Alexander asked, resting a hand on the Asharian’s shoulder.
The Asharian shrugged and shook him off with a hiss. Alexander wasn’t surprised. Not all in Ohinyan welcomed the angels’ presence, and to see three walking beside a witch, two Nords and a human would have done them no favours in Djira. Four more Asharians approached, but Alexander wouldn’t draw his weapon. The whole harbour could be destroyed if a fight were to break out.
Ahrek hissed at the approaching group. “Sheep, all of you. You’d have nothing if it weren’t for them standing here day after day, going out on the boats and around the city. You think they have nothing better to do than to be glorified lampposts all day long? Go burn it off at the tavern.” He flicked a few coins into the air, and the Asharians scattered to catch them.
Ahrek merely nodded at the Makya stationed beside the mirror and turned back to his route through the city without another word. Alexander followed in silence. He would discuss the matter with Pietje, the highest ranking Makya officer in the city, the moment he had the chance.
With Altair as part of their group, they took a slow pace through Djira. They didn’t need Ahrek to guide them, and he wasn’t the kind to make idle conversation. None of the Asharians were.
“I’ve been gathering intel on Okwata,” Noor said quietly to Alexander. He looked up at the witch; she towered over all of them, despite how tall he and Maab were. Her glider and two blades were strapped across her back, and he had no doubt other weapons were tucked away on her person. He’d never seen her without adornments, the circlet on her forehead, the silver cuffs along her arms; she mostly likely slept in them, too.
She wasn’t what Alexander had expected, when she’d approached him months before to strike up an alliance. She’d won back the trust of her coven but their approval no longer seemed to concern her. Ohinyan’s survival was her only goal now, and that mutual desire had formed the foundation of their friendship.
Gold rings encircled the stone pillars that supported the bridges, crisscrossing throughout the city as they walked deeper, higher. Ashar had been carved right from the rock, rows of houses and shops side by side with wooden doors—all closed to visitors. A few Asharians even hissed as they passed. “What does your network of spies tell you?” he asked.
The Shadows had led Fia to seek out Okwata, the last remaining Tahjiik. Well, the last one that remained in Ohinyan. He was a scientist, and he’d helped Fia and the others whilst Alexander had been on Earth, caught up with the Eternal Dusk. It was Okwata who had implemented the use of the copper devices for Fia to send messages across Ohinyan with. And it was because of Okwata that Alexander had the receiving device to Fia’s.
Noor glanced to Osara as the Nord ducked under a hanging basket. “He seems to shroud himself in secrets. But then I’d expect no less from one who was so well hidden for so long.”
“So many things had been concealed from us all over the years,” Alexander said softly. Yet another thing the angels should have known about. “Perhaps Erebus’s destruction of our archives was deeper than we’d first thought.”
Alexander realised with a quiet sigh how naïve he’d been about the angels’ position in
Ohinyan. He’d been raised to protect, but he knew only too well that many didn’t want their protection. Aside from the Makya’s spurts of disruption throughout the years, the last great war to ravage the lands ended with the disappearance of the King of Himera. Some even said his army had still not disbanded despite having no king to serve; that they were so loyal to his cause they would continue to serve him until their death. They were fools then, all of them. Many of Ohinyan’s inhabitants were still recovering from the effects of the war, and Alexander would do whatever it took in his lifetime to ensure peace remained.
Runa and Malachai mumbled somewhere behind him as he pushed aside a curtain of heavy moss. They made their way up the stone steps to where the streets began to narrow and the stone walls pressed in higher and tighter around them. They were almost at Okwata’s house.
When Alexander had first met the scientist after Erebus had taken Fia he’d expected—well, he hadn’t known what he’d expected—something from the myths and stories of his childhood, perhaps. Okwata had explained his exile, how the others had shunned him for wanting to try new things, even though Alexander couldn’t fathom why an advanced race would exile someone for being too progressive. He felt his magic building up inside him, tried to tell it that it wouldn’t be long now, that they weren’t far from the gate, and turned his thoughts back to Okwata’s people.
The Tahjiik had been a myth up until they’d met the scientist. A story they told their young. When Alexander had heard Okwata’s explanation—how he’d created devices for Fia’s messages to be carried across the world, how he’d ensured copies of his maps of windows were given to the angels, Alexander couldn’t believe their good fortune. When he’d asked Okwata why he’d remained hidden for so many years, the scientist had said he merely preferred the quiet, and Alexander hadn’t pressed him further. But there was something about Okwata’s tale he couldn’t place.
Ahrek was waiting by Okwata’s front door as they approached, dipping into the darkness as soon as he acknowledged their arrival. They shuffled one by one into the narrow stone corridor, following Ahrek’s swishing tail and impeccable black coat to Okwata’s lab. The window hummed as they stepped through into the parallel world of Ornax, and Alexander heard the unmistakable rumble of aversion from Maab.
The lab was a glasshouse, but the heat was not unpleasant. Plants hanging from knotted rope dotted their eyeline, a large wooden desk sat in the centre of the room, and a workbench stretched around half of the perimeter, scraps of metal and tools scattered across its pockmarked surface. Bright sunlight filtered through the trees outside the lab, the only indication that they were on another world.
“Greetings, all of you. I see we have some new faces.” Okwata’s smile was bright as he rolled his chair towards them. His short black hair had grown a little in the weeks since Alexander had seen him last, his black beard too. He flicked a metal switch, and the chair came to a stop right in front of their group. The scientist reached out a hand in greeting, his sepia skin smooth and unmarked against his golden tunic.
“Good to see you again, Okwata. This is Altair, leader of the Navarii, and this is Osara. She’s with Maab,” Alexander said, grasping Okwata’s hand.
Okwata welcomed Altair like he was an old friend, his soft brown eyes surrounded by smile lines. “I have heard a great many things about your people,” he said, wrapping one of Altair’s hands between his own. But he didn’t reach for Osara. He simply inclined his chin in greeting, and followed it with a clipped, “Osara.”
Before Alexander or anyone else had a chance to comment, Okwata wheeled over to his desk and picked something up, too small for Alexander and the others to see from where they waited. The scientist turned to them, sunlight catching on the object in his hands.
“What is that?” Runa asked, her wings flickering as if she might take a step towards him.
Okwata moved his chair back over to them, and Maab reached for the small blade the scientist held, another small rumble escaping from the Nord. He examined the blade closely—silver engraved with fine swirls of writing and a jewelled hilt. He ran a finger lightly across the edge, and blood pooled on his fingertip. He looked up and caught Alexander’s gaze, his pale green eyes bright and alert. “It’s a message.”
Chapter Seven
Lorn
“ Stop fussing over her. She likely just depleted herself. She’ll recover.” Lorn scowled at Fia. The girl hadn’t stopped fretting over Evina since they’d found the cave. But Lorn recognised the familiar sheen across Evina’s brow, the way her chest rose and fell with steady breaths. It had cost her to get them out of that prison with her.
Fia’s frown was unmistakable in the firelight. “She’s been out for hours. She needs water,” she said as she dabbed snow to melt onto Evina’s lips, and something about the gesture set Lorn’s blood to boiling.
But she said nothing. Evina would have had her motivations—she’d have known her chances of surviving out there alone were slim. Even Fia was necessary, as loathe as Lorn was to admit it to herself. The girl might not have mastered her ability to wield fire, but she could communicate with man and creatures alike—a skill they would no doubt be calling upon soon enough.
Lorn let another spark fall from her fingertips onto the remaining piece of wood she’d found during her last search in the snow. Even she had a limit to her power, a bottom to the pool of energy she could draw upon. If she’d merely kept herself ablaze for warmth, she wouldn’t have been able to keep it up indefinitely. So she’d resigned herself to looking for wood to keep Evina and Fia warm too. Despite her suggestion to leave Evina behind in the snow, the girl refused to leave her for dead. And so together they’d dragged her into this vile cave.
It was small—big enough for them each to lie down but far closer than Lorn would have liked. The stench of animal urine and other unpleasant things she didn’t want to think about lingered in the air, and charcoal drawings of shadowy creatures were smeared across the walls. Evina’s dark things, no doubt. Lorn looked out into the blizzard and saw only dense snow and a curtain of grey. She detested it.
“We won’t survive here long without food,” Fia said, following her gaze. And whilst Lorn was inclined to disagree with her for—well, for merely breathing too close—the girl was right. It was precisely why Lorn had been watching a white hare bounding in the snow not far from the cave, making sure she brought her hands up ready without any sudden movement.
Black beady eyes met hers, and she released a steady jet of flames. “My culinary skills are limited to roasting.” Lorn pushed herself to her feet and braced herself against the blizzard to where the hare lay still in the snow, smouldering. She scooped it up without so much as a second thought and made her way back to the cave. “But no one has complained just yet,” she said, dumping the creature at Fia’s feet and holding her gaze—waiting for her to complain about her method of hunting.
Fia’s mouth formed into an O and then closed again.
“You look like a fish.” Lorn sat opposite her and released another lick of flames onto the hare, the stink of burning hair and flesh filling the cave.
“Stop that. There won’t be anything left for us to eat.” Fia glared at her. “I’ve never seen someone with such disregard for life as you.” Fia pulled a dagger from her boot and inspected what remained of the small mammal.
“Disregard?” Lorn laughed. “We needed sustenance. I have provided it. This meat will ensure we do not starve. Now you can prepare it for us.”
Fia raised an eyebrow. “But was this necessary?” she asked, flicking her chin towards the charred remains. A few strands of red hair had worked their way free from their fastening, and she pushed them away with the back of her arm.
Lorn bared her teeth. “Continue complaining, and next time I’ll let you go out in the blizzard and find one with your bare hands.”
The girl was silent, but Lorn could tell she was fighting with that temper of hers again. Lorn had felt it in herself enough times to kn
ow.
“I take it you’ve no idea how to prepare a hare,” Fia finally said, working at the skin over the legs. “Probably had people waiting on you hand and foot in some palace somewhere, I expect.” The pelt began to come away in her hands as she worked. When she was done, she swiftly wiped her blade clean on the remains of the fur and tucked it back in her boot.
She’d kept that quiet, but then why would she share that she was in possession of a weapon? Not that it would harm Erebus, anyway. “Your roasting skills are required.” Fia gestured to the carcass.
Lorn released a steady jet of flames at the bare flesh until Fia held her hand up. “How did you learn?” Lorn asked as she turned the crimson-stained pile of fur to ashes.
Fia narrowed her eyes. “I watched a friend.” She patted tentatively at a leg, presumably to test how hot it was. “And I’m a fast learner.” She sighed. “You wasted most of it—this part is no good unless you want to pick the hair out of it for the next few hours.”
“It might help pass the time.” Lorn held her gaze. She’d done her part—they had food, didn’t they? What more did the girl want? Lorn loathed the fact that she needed her—but if they were to stand any chance of getting back to Ohinyan, Fia would be the only one that could communicate their needs. Whatever those might be. How do you explain to someone that you need to make your way back to another world? And Lorn had to get back. Whatever Fia was, she wasn’t the fire mother. The girl didn’t have it in her. You were the one to harm Erebus. You will be the one to rekindle the sun. Perhaps, if she was feeling generous, she’d give Erebus the choice—serve as her right hand, or she’d simply obliterate him. She’d decide on that when the time came.
Fia handed her a blackened leg. Lorn merely nodded as she took it, and they ate in silence. “I’ll take first watch,” Fia said, after eating only half of hers. “The rest of that is for Evina, don’t touch it.” She didn’t wait for a response, instead she pushed herself to her feet and wiped her hands in the snow.
The First Dawn (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Three) Page 5
