by Amy Ewing
LEELA’S HEART WAS BURSTING AS ELORIN LED IN ALL THE Cerulean who were now free.
“Plenna!” Heena shrieked as she saw her wife, and then she and Jaycin were falling into Plenna’s arms.
“Estelle?” Sera’s green mother gasped as Estelle rushed to embrace Kandra.
“Iona?”
“Beleen! But . . . but you died, you . . .”
“Kirtha, is that you? Can it be?”
The group of Cerulean from the stalactites were swarmed, even the ones who were so ancient they no longer had family alive to welcome them. For a time, the High Priestess was forgotten as the Cerulean hugged and cried and rejoiced, gazing at each other with wonder and amazement. It was like they were all waking up from a very long sleep. Sera and Elorin joined Leela at the front of the temple.
“You did it,” Leela said to Elorin.
She beamed. “I did.” She turned to take in the room, the change that was happening, chains finally being broken. “We’ve shown them who they were meant to be, Leela. We’ve healed them.”
“Not yet,” Leela said, feeling crestfallen. “The City must move. There must be another sacrifice.”
Elorin glanced at the chancel, where the High Priestess was boxed in by her acolytes. “Perhaps it should be the High Priestess,” she whispered. “After all she has done. Perhaps it is for her to right this wrong.”
Leela looked to Sera to see what she thought, but her friend did not appear to be listening. She was clutching the necklace, her eyes distant.
“Sera?” Leela asked.
“I have to go back,” Sera said. “We have begun to heal our City, but the High Priestess’s schemes affected the planet as well. And my friends are in danger. I don’t know what the Renalt will do if she gets her hands on Leo and Agnes.”
Leela swallowed. She did not know what a Renalt was and she did not wish for her friend to return to the planet, but she knew when Sera had made her mind up about something there was nothing else to be done. She cared deeply for those she had left behind, Leela had seen that. And then she remembered a snippet of Wyllin’s memory—of how, before the City moved again, the Cerulean would go down onto the planet one last time.
“I will go with you,” Leela said. “We must give back what we took from this planet.”
“I will come too,” Elorin piped up, and Leela smiled at her. She wasn’t sure how much the three of them would be able to give, but it was better than nothing.
“Where are you going?” Leela had not noticed that Koreen, Daina, and Atana had approached them, but Koreen was looking at her with interest now.
“I have to return to the planet once more,” Sera said. “To help my friends.”
“And we must replenish the earth,” Leela added. “As Cerulean did in times of old.”
“To the planet?” Atana gasped. “But it’s dangerous down there.”
“Do not be a scaredy-cat, Atana,” Koreen said. “It is our purpose to go onto the planet. Sera survived, and Leela too.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I will go with you as well.”
“What?” Atana yelped, but then Daina said, “So will I.”
“What’s this about going to the planet?” Freeda was looming over them and other Cerulean were gathering around, curious and interested.
“I wish to join you,” Acolyte Endaria said, after Leela had explained why they were going.
“We will go too,” Kandra said as she joined them, holding Sera’s green mother’s hand, her orange mother close behind.
One by one, Cerulean volunteered, agreeing to something they had no concept of, something that had been kept from them for generations. Twenty were coming in total. Leela had never felt so proud of her people.
“But we need moonstone,” Leela said.
Sera grinned. “It’s in the temple spire, you said, right?”
And Leela laughed, because there was nothing Sera loved more than climbing the temple, and this whole time she had been perching atop all the moonstone in the City.
Leela turned to the High Priestess. “You are coming with us,” she said, and Acolytes Endaria and Imima flew to her sides and gripped her arms. But the High Priestess did not struggle. She merely looked at Leela with the eyes of a woman who saw her world shrinking, who saw everything she had built begin to crumble and fall apart. The fight had gone out of her.
As they left the temple, the news of what they were about to do spread and there were cheers of encouragement for the knot of . . . what had Wyllin called them? Travelers. The knot of travelers that Leela and Sera had gathered.
Leela’s eyes filled with tears as she passed the doors and the symbols of Mother Sun shifted and became readable, a short cluster this time, not a waterfall like she had grown used to.
I am so proud of you, my child, the markings said. They shimmered, and for one moment, Leela saw the will-o-the-wisp from her dream reflected in their gilded image.
And then it was gone and the markings melted away.
Once outside, the travelers waited as Sera climbed up the temple spire as quick and lithe as a sunlizard. Leela saw the golden point shift and then moonstone was raining down on them, figurines and rings and bracelets, necklaces and circlets and brooches, along with shattered fragments of the old fountain from the Night Gardens.
Elorin chose a moonstone ring set with pink stargems and Kandra was fastening a brooch to her robes as Freeda tucked a long shard of moonstone into her belt. Leela could not believe so many had volunteered to come. She did not want to put her people in danger, but she knew in her heart that this was what they were meant to do. Sera might have another motive in helping her human friends, but Leela knew that if the City were to really, truly change and return to the way it was supposed to be, it had to begin now.
Besides, trying to keep the Cerulean away from all harm was what had led them to this stagnation in the first place. There were worse things than death, Leela thought as she looked at the High Priestess, still flanked by two acolytes.
Sera climbed back down the temple and Leela turned to address those who would be coming with them.
“We will have to go down beneath the City,” she said. “If anyone wishes to change their mind, now is your chance. There is no shame in being afraid.”
Daina trembled and Koreen twirled her hair nervously, but no one said a thing. The gathered Cerulean were watching her with faces set and backs straight. Leela felt a quiver in her stomach. She was in charge now. She must lead them.
She turned to Elorin and Sera. “Let’s go,” she said.
She led them to Faesa’s statue, revealing the stairs that descended into the cold blue light. There were more cries of amazement as the Cerulean took in the Sky Gardens, the glowing columns and green paths and clear pools. Leela brought them to the central pool where the stalactites lay empty and the tether shot up into the cone of moonstone. Leela turned to the ice-white vines above—there was a flash of heat in her heart and suddenly all the fruit fell, plop plop plop, juicy orbs of gold littering the ground.
“You must take one,” Leela said. “And eat it. It will enhance your magic and make you strong.”
She was a bit shocked at how quickly her orders were followed. Without hesitation, everyone bent to grab a fruit. Koreen’s eyes widened as she took the first bite, Kandra gasped, and Freeda shuddered. But when the High Priestess began to bend, Leela reached out a hand to stop her.
“No,” she said. “Not you. You do not get to consume our magic anymore.”
The High Priestess pursed her lips and straightened.
“Everyone take a pool,” Leela commanded once the fruit was eaten. The Cerulean already seemed changed, their skin glowing bright silver, their eyes shining pure blue, as they spread throughout the space to stand beside the clear patches on the ground. “We will follow the line of the tether. Trust me. Trust Sera.”
Elorin had a mix of fear and anticipation on her face as she gave Leela a tight smile. Sera’s mothers were standing at pools right next to each other, t
heir eyes flitting from the planet back to their daughter.
Leela and Sera stood together beside the largest pool with the tether shooting through it. “When I say jump, we jump!” Leela called out.
Sera grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Leela took a deep, fortifying breath and cried, “Jump!”
She sank through the pool, Sera at her side. One by one the Cerulean followed them, filling the darkness like silver-blue stars.
36
Agnes
SERA WAS GONE SO QUICKLY, IT LEFT AGNES BEWILDERED, her mind unable to truly absorb the loss.
Then the cannons rang out again and Vada grabbed her hand. “We must be getting out of here!” she cried.
Agnes turned to Wyllin. “Come with us,” she said.
The ancient Cerulean smiled. “My place is here,” she said. “Go.”
They fled back the way they had come, through the maze of rooms and out into the lush green trees. The warships had aimed their cannons at the Alcazar and ships carrying the Renalt’s Misarros were being rowed to shore. The Byrne Misarros were racing from the clandestines to confront them. So much fighting, so much death, Agnes thought. Over nothing.
“We have to stop this,” she said to Leo. But he was staring in the opposite direction. “What?” she asked, turning.
The Byrne Misarros who had come with Ambrosine were all kneeling, placing their weapons on the ground at Agnes’s feet.
“We are at your service,” said the leader, a woman with graying spikes and sinewy arms. “We will fight and die for you, Agnes Byrne.”
“By the goddesses,” Eneas gasped. “You are the matriarch now.”
He looked proud, but Agnes didn’t feel anything except light-headed and confused.
Matthias seemed to understand. “Ambrosine is dead,” he said gently, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Culinnon is yours now. These Misarros serve the Byrnes. They serve you.”
“I don’t want to be served by anyone,” Agnes protested.
“Let us not be making any hasty decisions,” Vada said. “We are still having the Renalt to contend with.”
That was a good point. Agnes could deal with the fact that she didn’t want to be a matriarch later. “Please,” she said to the Misarros, feeling horribly awkward. “You can stand, it’s all right. We—we’ve got to get off this island.”
“Our fleet is yours,” the head Misarro said. “This way.”
She led them down the winding path, an easier journey than the climb had been, though nearly as long. The sound of cannon fire chased their steps, along with the shouts from both Renalt and Byrne forces alike. They reached the beach and Agnes stopped short. Misarros were locked in combat, swords and knives flashing, whips cracking, spears flying through the air.
If Agnes was the head of these Misarros, they should have to listen to her. “This isn’t what I want,” she said to the leader. “I don’t want them to fight. Ambrosine’s dead. There’s no power or wealth on this island. There’s nothing to fight over anymore.”
The Misarro gave her a curt nod. “Halt!” she cried out, running toward the fray. “Drop your weapons, by order of the matriarch!”
The other Misarros followed, but they were only pulled into the fighting instead of ending it, as the Renalt Misarros focused their attacks on the newcomers.
“No,” Agnes moaned. She had lost her best friend and her grandmother, and the weight of her grief, of the unfairness of it all, ripped out of her in a wild, untamed cry. “Stop fighting!” She began sprinting toward the fray, sand flying up beneath her heels. “Stop!”
Someone behind her called, “Agnes!” but then her brother was running in time with her. Though his face was expressionless, Agnes could see the pain in his eyes, the agony of Sera’s loss fresh within him. He didn’t cry out to stop the fighting—he didn’t speak at all, and Agnes had the sense that he was here simply to be by her side, to protect her in any way he could. A spear whizzed by her head and a dagger shot past Leo, grazing his shoulder, a fine line of bright red blood seeping through his shirt. Just as Agnes thought, Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, there was a flash of light on the beach in front of her. Then another. And another.
The cannons ceased and the fighting stopped as the beach was suddenly filled with Cerulean.
Half the Misarros stood stunned, eyes wide and mouths agape, the other half readying their weapons as if waiting for the knot of silver-skinned women to attack. The Cerulean seemed just as surprised as the humans, taking in Agnes’s world with its blue sky and white sand and salty water as if spellbound.
“Sera!” Leo cried. And there she was, her head turning at the sound of his voice and they were running to each other, and Agnes was running too. Leo and Sera crashed into each other, and Agnes’s brother was shaking with joy.
“You’re here,” he gasped as Agnes caught up with them, panting. She realized her family had followed her, Matthias and Hektor, along with Vada and Eneas.
“I couldn’t leave you in danger,” Sera said. “And we must give back what we took from the planet.”
“So many of you came,” Agnes said. Matthias took off his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve, as if the Cerulean might be a mirage.
“I am taking it things went well with your High Priestess?” Vada asked.
“She will not be High Priestess much longer,” Sera said grimly as Leela hurried up to them.
“Sera, what should we do?” she asked. “Are the humans going to hurt us?”
Agnes felt resolve set in, strong and steady. “No,” she said. Then she called out, “Byrne Misarros!” The warriors with golden disks at their necks all turned. “I command you to drop your weapons and cease this fight.”
For a moment nobody moved and Agnes felt her confidence begin to crack. Then Matthias stepped forward.
“Ambrosine is dead,” he shouted.
And to Agnes’s utter shock, Hektor strode up next to him.
“Agnes is the Byrne matriarch now,” he said. “You will do as she commands.”
One by one the Byrne Misarros dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. The Renalt Misarros didn’t seem to know what to do. Then Agnes saw them begin to kneel as well and wondered just how powerful a being the Byrne matriarch was, until she saw a woman stepping off a small boat and striding up the beach toward her.
“The Renalt,” Vada gasped, and then she was kneeling too, and Matthias and Hektor and Eneas. Leo and Agnes looked at each other and knelt in the sand alongside them. Only the Cerulean remained standing.
“Rise,” the Renalt said. Agnes stood and found herself looking at a woman in her late forties, with brown skin and liquid black eyes. She was clad in an elegant gown of glittering, champagne-colored beads, a crown of oyster shells nestled in her thick dark hair. A silver cape streamed out from her shoulders and she held a small scepter in one hand, topped with a smooth white dosinia.
The Renalt cocked her head. “So you are Alethea’s daughter,” she said. She looked at Leo. “And you are very clearly her son.”
“I am,” Agnes said as Leo gave a swift nod.
“Matthias,” the Renalt said, acknowledging him with a flicker of her eyes.
“Your Grace,” Matthias said.
The Renalt gazed down at them all imperiously. She turned to Sera and Leela with the same expression Agnes had seen on Ambrosine’s face, a famished greed.
“It appears that my daughter and her guard did not exaggerate,” she said. “You are all Saifa incarnate.” Sera opened her mouth to protest, but the Renalt was snapping her fingers. “Arrest them,” she said, and her Misarros leaped at her command. “The silver ones too. We will sort them out in Banrissa.” She gave Agnes a hard, discerning look. “It seems as though the Byrne stranglehold over this country is finally at an end.”
“No!” Agnes cried as the Cerulean stumbled away, confused, and the Misarros moved toward her, and then her own Misarros were picking up their weapons to defend her. “Ambrosine is dead and I’m
not the woman she was at all. I don’t want to fight you and I don’t want to rule over anything. Please just . . . let us go. There’s nothing on this island for any of us—no power, no riches. And we are no threat to you.”
The Renalt’s eyes were pitying. “I know you are not, my dear,” she said. “But your grandmother attacked my daughter. Someone must pay for that.”
“Take me, then,” Matthias said.
The Renalt sighed. “Matthias, you know the Lekke would be at my throat if I did.”
“Then me,” Hektor said, standing.
The queen rolled her eyes. “That would be no punishment at all.”
Hektor’s cheeks flushed an ugly red and Agnes felt an unexpected surge of love for her cold uncle.
Then Sera stepped forward, serene and unafraid.
“You will not be taking anyone anywhere,” she said. The Renalt looked startled at being addressed so bluntly.
“My daughter told me about you,” she said. “She says you are a witch.”
“I am a Cerulean and my blood is magic,” Sera replied. “And you will not take my people or my friends. There is another, better path open to you, if only you could remember it.”
Her irises began to burn as Agnes felt once again the sensation of her body locked in a vise, a ripple of wind fluttering over her skin. She had a fleeting moment to wonder about what memory Sera would reveal before her joints all snapped together as she saw.
Alethea was kneeling in a triangular room, with high ceilings and three thrones in each corner, long steps leading up to them so that they were perched halfway up the walls.
One was carved into the trunk of a large olive tree, its scrubby branches spreading out above the head of the queen who sat in it, its leaves dense with green and purple fruit. The queen was young and dressed in scarlet, with pale skin and a crown of laurels in her honey-colored hair. The second throne was made of seashells: conches and scallops, mussels and lion’s paws, blending together in a quilt of muted color. A younger version of the Renalt stared down at Alethea with an interested expression. The third throne was crafted out of bones, sharks and whales and dolphins, skulls and fins and vertebrae pieced together in a macabre fashion. The queen who sat in it had a shaved head on which perched a crown of fangs. Her face was skeptical.