Synergist

by Chloe Adler

  “Wait, I have questions!”

  But she’s gone. Crap.

  “Hey, blue horsey beasty thing, you understand English?” I pet his flank, running my hand gently over his pale blue hair, so similar in feel to Sequoia’s coat. He tilts his head. A moment later, the beast pelts out a cry that sounds like a cross between a clarinet and a timpani.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes. May. I. Ride, On. Your. Back?” I speak slowly, over-enunciating each word, not sure how well it understands.

  The creature tosses his long white mane and bows his head, flicking his elven ears as if to say, “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Again, I’m taking that as a yes and am in no way inferring that you’re stupid.”

  He winks at me. The thing actually winks. Guess who’s the idiot now? “I deserved that. I’m coming up.” He paws the ground once and then holds perfectly still as I vault onto his back. For once, at least this weird gravity is working for me, but its unpredictability is still a little frustrating. Without a word, tug or kick, the mermaid horse takes off in the same direction we were traveling before.

  The lush forest of Calixto calls to me, almost making me forget the task at hand, why I’m here and what I’m doing. Every time I want to slip from his back to explore, I repeat my new mantra. Candy. Candy. Candy. But when we pass spectacular flowers the size of dinner plates I’ve never seen before, I can’t help reaching out and touching them. Tara truly is a fairyland.

  The abada picks up speed, and I clench my legs around his sleek body, leaning forward like I’ve seen jockeys do on TV and clutching his mane tightly. I don’t know why, but the faster he moves, the easier it becomes to hold on. And he moves fast, faster than anything in my realm. So fast that the trees smear into one continuous green blur, like speeding down a forested road in a muscle car on jet fuel.

  After a while, I don’t know how long, the terrain changes. The trees thin out, the abada slows down, and it looks like we’re on the moon. Or what I would imagine the moon looks like from what I’ve seen on television. It’s more or less a desert but instead of sand, everything around us is rock. Gray and yellow rock as far as the eye can see. Some of the formations are beautiful, but the landscape is harsh, unrelenting. It’s also the first time since being in Tara that I even notice temperature. It’s cold. Very cold. Desperately cold. I shiver and my teeth begin to chatter.

  From far away, buzzing carries on the chill wind. I shift and turn on the abada, trying to see where it’s coming from. The sound grows louder and I start to panic, kicking the abada’s flanks to start him up again. He doesn’t change his pace, which, compared to a short time ago, has become painfully slow.

  “Hey, buddy,” I lean down and whisper in his ear, which flicks like a cat’s. “Can we speed it up here?”

  He tosses his head in response and keeps the pace steady. The buzzing grows even louder, and ahead, something big and black swarms in the distance. Not wanting to take the chance that these are bees, or something worse, I prepare to leap off the back of the abada and run into the trees we just came out of.

  Except they’re gone.

  Behind us is the same desolate landscape as far as the eye can see. Screw it. I leap off the abada anyway and crawl underneath him again. He stops walking as soon as I do, and the swarm picks up momentum, barreling down on me.

  Hiding under a mermaid horse seems ridiculous, but I don’t know what else to do, so I bring my knees up and bury my face between them. I circle my hands around my head to keep my face from being stung. And then, I hold my breath. The swarm descends on me, circling my body, and I bite down on my tongue, preparing for a thousand stings. They land all over me, covering me completely, even my head.

  I moan softly into my knees, gnashing my teeth and bracing for the pain, but there is none. The swarm has completely covered me, but all it’s brought is warmth. Are they fire bugs, burning me from the outside in? Magical bugs, doing something worse?

  A soft nose nuzzles my head, and I jerk upright in response. The abada has stepped away, leaving me uncovered. He’s standing next to me, butting his head into me, as if encouraging me to get up. So I do. The swarm, still attached, flows with me like a warm, vibrating blanket. I’m not shivering. They haven’t bitten me, and I have free movement.

  On my arm, thousands of tiny black dots move and shift. Whatever these things are, they are definitely alive. But at this moment, they’re not going to eat me. Small triumphs. Will I kill them if I mount the horse again? Only one way to find out. I leap through the air and it’s almost like I can fly as I crest the abada’s body. Atop him once again, I stretch out, circling his neck with my arms. The little black bugs still cover me, and no one cried out when I sat on them. They’re still buzzing over my arm in one contiguous body, as though I’m wearing a cloak of black oil, except that it’s not wet or sticky. I run the fingers of one hand over the back of my other, and the creatures move underneath my touch. I can’t quite articulate what they feel like, only that they appear soft like velvet.

  The abada moves at a faster clip over the moonscape toward a large, blackened rock in the distance. The closer we get to it, though, the farther it appears, like a moving mirage. The sun, or something bright that I take to be the sun, beats down on us but I don’t feel its heat. My body temperature is stable with these little black climate-control buggy things. Now if only I can get them to turn colors too, I’d have no need for clothing.

  The black rock looms closer now, like it jumped forward in space, jutting high into the air. The face of the rock is shorn flat and shiny, like an obsidian monolith. I tip my head back, stretching my neck toward the top, but it’s higher than my line of sight.

  It’s also not sitting on the ground. The thing is floating. It’s fucking moving.

  That’s just not helpful. But it makes sense, why it was so far away before and now is so close. It was moving away from us, but now it’s coming toward us. Oh joy. This imposing darkness just oozes danger. Maybe because it rises up so high it blots out the sun I can never seem to catch sight of in Tara.

  Or maybe it’s the way the abada rears in front of it. What the hell? The thing suddenly sprouts wings. Freaking wings. They shimmer ocean blue and mint green. I barely have time to expel a slew of curses before we’re in the air, climbing toward the dark pillar.

  He flies up at a steep angle, and I cling to his back even though it’s increasingly difficult to keep my grip. My hands are getting tired. These rheo bugs are great for climate control but hella lacking when it comes to friction. But then, I’ve never flown on the back of a mermaid horse before.

  Fuck me.

  Blackness fills the sky.

  Monolith

  The obelisk expands in mass and volume, filling in the available space like a choir of tubas in an echo chamber.

  The structure is much larger and even more foreboding than it appeared to be from the ground, and it’s shaped like a needle, wider at the bottom and thinner at the top. The outside of the structure shifts and moves like molten lava. I can almost see faces, creatures appearing and disappearing on the surface. The whole thing is trippy as fuck.

  When we we’re partway up, something mechanical screeches, the metallic sound causing the abada to stop midswoop. We hover in front of the column as a large door slides up. It appears to be metal but I doubt it’s anything so common. Since this is Tara, it’s probably some new element that will instantly kill anything that touches it. I want to leap off the abada’s back, but if I do, I will probably fall to my death instead of floating down and my lizard brain tells me not to take the chance. So I remain on his back as he flies into the vessel, which is what I’m now convinced this thing is.

  The inside is pitch-black; even the light from outside fails to penetrate the void. As soon as we enter, the door clangs shut, enclosing us in a darkness so devoid of light it’s like I’m trapped in the vacuum of space itself.

  When his hooves touch down on a grated metal floor inside, the blackness di
sappears in a flood of light, illumination that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. There are no fixtures, no sconces, no recessed bulbs, nothing. It’s as if the air itself is luminous.

  The room we’re in is round, which is weird, because from the outside, the vessel appeared rectangular, shooting into the sky. I counted four sides outside, but it’s one smooth circle inside. The surface of the brushed-metal wall twists and turns like the walls outside, only now it’s mercury, not obsidian. The floor is a sea of the same metal, but thankfully it doesn’t churn with hellish faces the way the walls of this vessel do. There’s no furniture or decoration or fixtures to break up the stark metal surfaces.

  I’m considering climbing off the abada’s back to explore when a hissing sound fills the chamber, and the floor starts vibrating. In front of us, a black cloud blinks into existence, then grows larger and larger. The air takes on a metallic tang, and though my heart is practically beating through the front wall of my chest, I’m more curious than fearful. The blob grows more opaque, denser and darker. It undulates and moves toward us.

  The abada trumpets his call again, and in response, the blob breaks apart into a billion tiny little black balls. It breaks up and then reforms, floating in the air in front of us. One black tendril reaches toward us, and I lean back as it nears, but there’s only so far I can lean on the back of the abada. Soon the tendril is upon me, and when it touches my face, the cold that barrels through me sucks out all the air in my lungs. I’m sure, in that instant, that my body will freeze solid. My breath escapes in clouds of frost before my mouth. My teeth chatter and my entire body shivers uncontrollably. My buzzy blanket is no match for this big, bad smoke monster.

  Well, I’ve got nothing to lose. “Stop!”

  To my surprise, the tendril retreats, dispersing and then reforming into the apparently sentient dark blob.

  My temperature-regulating bugs seem to buzz in double time over the surface of my body, warming me back up again.

  “Who are you?” the blackness breathes, its voice hollow and haunting, as if coming through a long tunnel.

  “Why are you here?” it asks before I can respond to the first question.

  The thing shifts, breaks apart and reforms again, almost like it can’t settle on a framework.

  “I’m here for Harlesque.” Less is probably more right about now. Maybe it’s best not to advertise that I know the fae king. “Are you Azotar?”

  A black tendril shoots out, knocking me from my mount. I land on the ground hard, on my ass. No floating down softly here. More tendrils shoot out and wrap around my head. The cold overwhelms me but this time I can’t breathe at all. I gasp for air but my lungs no longer work. The edges of my vision begin to waver and darken. The sensation is familiar and unwelcome—like the icy bloom my powers brought on just the other day, only the men aren’t here to surround me with their warm bodies. To keep me alive.

  The abada cries out again, this time louder and shrill. He cries over and over, trumpeting that strange sound, but the blackness grasps and gropes further, reaching down my throat, past my still lungs, to ice my heart. In contrast, my mind spins furiously, recalling the men, bringing their warmth to me, imagining their bodies surrounding mine. Why did I insist on coming here myself? On doing this by myself? Why do I insist on doing everything myself?

  In that moment, it’s clear as the glass ceiling in their atrium that I need them. I need help. And I was a complete idiot to pretend otherwise.

  My pulse slows, my blood sluggish in my veins, and I retreat into myself. Into my mind. I have to believe, to let go of all my preconceived ideas, to try something new. I travel to that place of quiet serenity, the one my mother first showed me when I was ten. The one Bodhi reawakened. Once I’m there, I’m able to draw on the warmth of my memories, of my men.

  I pull in Arch and his redwood tree, tall and strong, reaching toward the sunlight. The element of fire. Bodhi, the wisdom and quiet solitude of a warm summer breeze through rustling leaves. He’s the element of air. Cedar, the foundation of rich soil nourished by the seasons in which so much life is rooted. The earth element. And the expanse of the forest, buzzing, bright, filled with magic and life. The droplets of dew and the water meadow. Forrest, the element of water.

  I suck in a huge mouthful of air, gulping it down as fast as I can. The darkness wavers, then melts and fades away completely, as if it were never there.

  The blob is gone too. My little temperature regulators shift and move, revving into overdrive until I’m warm again. The abada paws the ground over and over, but I ignore him and lurch around the room, looking for an opening to get the hell out of here. The walls are still churning and changing, as if anything that touches them could get sucked inside, and my entire body recoils at the thought of getting too close.

  The abada continues to paw at the floor and—is he closer to me now? But he hasn’t moved from his spot. And everything looks closer. Smaller. Fuck me, the walls are contracting. Really? Where in the hell is the exit from this carnival ride?

  My hands grope the floor beneath. If the floor is the only thing not moving, then perhaps the way out lies there. My hands push and prod until they hit—a latch.

  Prying it up requires all my strength, and still it refuses to click open. The latch itself is so small that it slips through my fingers over and over again. I can barely grasp it. I hold onto it as best I can and grab onto the abada’s leg for leverage. Nothing. He bends his nose down and nuzzles my neck. Then he brings his face down lower, over the latch, and breathes on it. Nothing. Does he want me to do the same?

  I try breathing on it, but still, nothing. I breathe out of my nose, I blow on it, I yell at it.

  It remains closed and latched.

  But from underneath the floor, sounds emerge. I lay my ear to the floor. First, footsteps echoing up a long metal chamber, and then screams. Female screams. Candy’s screams.

  “Candy!” I call out, straightening up and clawing at the latch again. “It’s me, Amaya. How the hell do I open this thing?”

  “Amaya?” Her voice is barely audible.

  “Yes, I’m here for you. I’ll get you out. I promise.” Suddenly, the latch clicks open as though it weighs nothing. As if my promise to Candy is the key. Before me, the outline of a door appears in the previously smooth floor. The door slides open and into itself with a loud, heavy clang. At once, the walls stop shifting inward to crush us.

  Candy is perched directly underneath, on the landing of a very long spiral staircase that descends into darkness.

  I reach my hand into the opening, and she grasps it quickly, letting me haul her out. As soon as she’s in the room, Candy throws herself into my arms, sobbing. The poor woman. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Shhhh.”

  She leans back and looks me in the eyes, as though she can’t quite believe it’s me. Her eyes trail down my body. “Rheos” She sniffles and hugs me again, burying her face in my shoulder. The bugs oscillate in unison for a moment, the sensation like a wave from head to toe, before they settle back to their previous aimless patterns. Do they understand she’s referring to them?

  “S-Sabin,” she sobs.

  “What about him?

  “He was here, trying to save me. We can’t leave without him. Please.”

  “But Sabin can move about freely. Surely if we get out, he’ll follow.”

  “Down there.” She points down the hatch, down the spiral staircase and into the darkness below. “He’s stuck, wasn’t able to follow me,” she says working herself up into hysterics again. “He was f-f-flickering off and on. I could see a man. A beautiful man!”

  “You’re telling me that Sabin is down there and he’s corporeal?”

  Candy nods, tears pouring down her face. “Please,” she hiccoughs, “will you go get him?”

  I really, really don’t want to. I want to get out of this awful place as fast as I can with Candy and the abada, but Sabin helped me get here, and I refuse to leave someone behind. Not again
. “Fine. I’ll do what I can, but you stay here with the abada.”

  She rubs her eyes and looks up as if she’s noticed the mermaid horse for the first time. “Japheth!” she squeals, leaping out of my arms and throwing herself on the abada’s leg, hugging him tightly. He leans down and nuzzles her hair.

  At least she’ll be safe with him. They’re obviously old friends.

  “Japheth?” The abada inclines his head toward me. “You make sure Candy stays safe while I’m gone, okay?”

  Japheth trumpet-whinnies.

  “Candy, you stay here. Do not leave Japheth’s side.”

  She wipes her eyes, sniffles and nods.

  I peek down into the hole, suck in some air and lower myself onto the landing. “Are there any lights down here?”

  Candy peeks over the edge and shakes her head. “Wait a minute, don’t leave yet.” She disappears from sight. At least she’s stopped crying.

  “Japheth, cut it here, with your teeth,” she says.

  I can’t see what she’s referring to, but the abada squeals in protest.

  “You have to. It’ll grow back. This is more important.”

  After a few moments of chomping sounds, she reappears, looking over the edge at me. I gasp, almost not recognizing her. The silvery locks are all gone, replaced by a choppy, chin-length bob. She reaches down, silver hair spilling out of her hand. I reach up, and she drops the pile of silver into it.

  “This will light your way. And if you are cornered—” The opening slides shut above me with a loud clang.

  “Candy? Candy!”

  But the only response is silence. Okay, guess it’s time to go down. Her hair glows brightly in my hand, and I hold it in front of myself as I descend the long, spiral staircase.

  The farther down I go, the colder it gets. My rheo bugs shift and scurry to keep me warm. The light from Candy’s hair casts eerie shadows down the grating of the metal stairs.

  After several floors, the air thickens, becomes cloying. A sound emanates from just below me. Something crying? A child? The urge to soothe whoever is down there is overwhelming. Without thought, I break into song. It’s one I made up myself when I was a preteen, one I’ve only sung in the privacy of my room when no one was home. It’s bright and cheerful and hopelessly silly. I don’t know why I started singing it, but as I do, Candy’s hair glows brighter and the crying from below stops.