by Brindi Quinn
With that, I command my portion of the enchant holding Awyer to follow after me. Feligo, though he cannot hear my side of the conversation, sees the motion and commands his half of the enchant to do the same. Together, we hover Awyer’s body upon a cloud of Gold.
But my pactor is heavy, and I am weak. My pact is weak. Ever, it grows more difficult to pull from our shared power. I quickly tire from the exertion.
Although I spoke tough, I do not know what I will do if Pedj decides against accompanying me.
Through the nexus we travel in silence. Pedj’s thought runs over his face. Frown follows smile follows grimace. He does not know how to react to what I have told him. Perhaps family-turned-foe is even more aching than friend-turned-foe. Perhaps to think of Pedj’s pain, I must again consider what it would be like were Awyer the one wishing me dead.
Pang!
From there on, I do not make eye contact with Pedj’s changing expressions.
Through flower and vine and brush we trudge, passing cactus and toadstool alike. Through breathtaking jungle and divine wood we march until we are at last at the metal ramp that first allowed us to this place.
Leaves of scarlet and amber and gold settle the ground. Undressing trees shelter bushes sparsely from the sun. My shadow elongates. Feligo releases his half of the enchant over a built-up pile of leaves. They crunch beneath Awyer’s body.
Not much longer, my Awyer. Not much longer, my heart.
My stomach acts in knots. I do not know what I will do if Pedj decides against joining us. Feligo and I will be able to carry Awyer for a time, but only for a time, and our speed will not be as swift as Pedj’s bonemen. It is with this knowing that I turn to ask Pedj for his decision – or so I intend to, but I am beaten to it by a victorious cry from the mouth of a well-groomed maestro.
“Here’s where we part!” Feligo shouts.
“Part? Hoop! Hold up! I ain’t even told you my decision yet!” protests Pedj.
“It doesn’t matter,” says Feligo. “Wherever you go from here, I won’t be with you.”
That is news to me –
“What do you mean you will not be with us?!” I cry.
And also to Pedj –
“You’re joshin’, right?” he says dryly.
Feligo shakes his head. “Simply put, I’m staying.”
“Pedj, give the silverfox your crystal at once!”
“Whaa? But he won’t put it in his–”
“Tell him that I insist!”
Begrudgingly, Pedj removes the crystal from his cheek and extends it to Feligo. Moistened, it glints in the sun.
Feligo turns up his nose at it.
“She insists,” says Pedj. He rubs the excess saliva onto his shirt for good measure. With a look most horrified, Feligo sniffs and turns his cheek to the stone, in a way to suggest that it contains some insufferable odor. From there, he waits a moment before slowly reaching his hand to Pedj’s.
Plop.
The crystal falls into his palm, where it is quickly enveloped by a small cloud of Gold.
The cleanly fox means to sanitize it first. I cannot blame him.
When at last he is satisfied, the Azurian opens wide his mouth and cautiously places the crystal inside. In the aftermath, he clenches his eyes tightly and frowns and waits for his disgust to pass.
“Enough of that,” I scold. “Now, properly explain yourself! I am grateful for the aid you have given, and I did not intend to force it to continue, but why should you desire to stay here? Even you yourself determined that the islands would fall!”
“And that’s why I must stay.” Feligo says. The crystal does not impair his speech to the extent that it impairs Pedj’s. “The people of this place have waited and waited for something that is now past. If I’ve learned anything from my time as a government official, it’s that people are reluctant to change. They won’t be quick to abandon their home. Evacuating eight islands will take organization and leadership.”
“And you aim to lead them?”
Back to the sun, Feligo nods. His fair hair, reaching only to his chin, shines in the light.
“There are things I must atone for,” he says.
Ah. I see. And by saving these necromancers, the sins of his past, as well as those of his fathers, will be righted.
The handsome silverfox stands stoic in the light. His sigiled armor glints.
“I understand,” I tell him. “There are things I would like to atone for as well. I once pacted to a silverfox. He was not as loyal or vigilant than you. You are a true knight, Sir Feligo.”
My voice gives me away. Feligo senses something and asks, “What happened to him?”
“His days were short.”
I will not admit that I was the one to put an end to them.
“The last time I met a silverfox, it did not turn out well,” I say instead. “And so I was slow to trust you. But you are a man far better than he, and I know that you will be able to atone for your sins. I am saddened that your might will not accompany me to the end, but I will not fault you for your decision.”
“Thank you, fae.” With the mien and stature of a soldier, Feligo brings his fist to his chest and bows.
I once killed one of my wards. At the time, I felt no great sadness over ending that silverfox’s life. I felt no great sadness over our parting.
That is why I am startled by my sorrow now. It is unexpected that I should lament parting ways with anyone but Awyer. Naefaeries do not lament.
Then again, I gave up naefaeriedom long ago. The moment I allowed compromising feelings to exist is the moment I abandoned my duty.
“Here.” Feligo spits the voiced crystal into his palm and offers it to Pedj.
“Blech!”
The silverfox shows offense. “Knave! My mouth is far cleaner than yours!”
“Doubt it.” Cringing, the irritable ex-zombie again takes the crystal into his mouth.
“Well?” Feligo places a hand on his hip. “Have you decided? What’ll you do?”
“Indeed, Pedjram. What will you do?” I say.
“Argh! No fair! You know when you get on callin’ me that, it only makes me think of Mael!”
And here I thought his limited craft would keep him from noticing.
I say nothing and wait for his answer. Pedj looks to the sun. He looks to the clouds and the day. And then he growls. “‘Course I’ll come,” he says, and his reluctance is reminiscent of my pactor.
I do not care if it is reluctant or not. Overjoyed, I fly at him. “Zombie! I delight in your choice!” I throw my arms around his shoulders, though I know they will not make contact.
But even though I should not make contact, Pedj shivers. “Whoa. Almost felt it that time,” he says.
Feligo nods in agreement. “The fae’s aura is more solid than when we first met.”
It . . . is? And yet my pact with Awyer continues to weaken. Its pull of Thyst is faint.
Before I can ask for elaboration, Feligo opens his mouth wide. A yawn? No. He covers the open gape with an equally open palm. It is not a yawn; it is a summoning. When he pulls his hand away, a glowing piece of grassweed follows.
He has just removed one of his agions. Glowing and silver and delicate is that which first brought him to us. He extends the blade to Pedj. “Take this with you. I’d like to have an idea of where you are.”
“Ick, no! That thing just came smack outta you!”
“You have the nerve to say this after convincing me to put that foul, slobber-coated crystal into my mouth!?” Feligo retorts. “HERE!”
“Gwiiiim,” Pedj whines at me, seeking support.
“Just take it!” I order. “You will offend him!”
Still, the zombie protests. “Naw, really, I couldn’t. I mean, won’t you be all off your game without it?” He fakes thoughtfulness.
“I’ll adjust.” Dark eyebrows furrowed angrily, Feligo forces the blade into Pedj’s hand, and Pedj carelessly stuffs it into his pocket.
“Er, f
anks or somefin’,” he mutters, but his contempt cannot be masked by words. “ANYhoop,” he diverts, “you really intend to stay with the raisers?”
“Until they’re securely away from Yel’ram.”
“Even though they’re ripe nuts, havin’ pretty much worshiped the hellbeast all these years?”
Feligo does not falter.
“Phoo. You’re one cwazy, cwazy cwoop . . . By the hoo, you ever find out what happened a thousand years ago to get the draggar down there in the first place?”
A thousand years? For the first time I consider something that should have been obvious. A thousand years . . . Its rising was around the same time of Eldrade’s seclusion. Mayhap the Eldradeans were not the only ones making deals with the ancients.
But whether or not the two are connected, Pedj’s asking strikes a nerve in the Maestro. A vein deep in Feligo’s neck pulses. “Here’s the thing about that–” he says with chagrin. “It’s a sham! A travesty!” He shakes his fist in the air dramatically. “Cuuuurses!”
“Huh?” says Pedj, unaffected. “Meanin’?
“None of the scoundrels know how or why the Cascade rose! It probably wasn’t even a thousand years ago!”
“Whaaa?”
“There’s no actual record of it in their books, apparently.” Feligo snubs a nearby tree as an outlet for his disappointment.
“Sanjuel, that old fart! Actin’ like he knew what’s what! When you rescue the others, you should leave him behind.”
Feligo turns his fist on Pedj. “NEVER!”
“Easy! Was just joshin’!” Out the side of his mouth, he adds, “Oka, Gwim. We better get goin’. Time’s a-wastin’.”
Merely because he does not wish to deal further with Feligo’s dramatics! The zombie’s wants are transparent.
No matter. I, too, am eager to depart.
I turn for one last look of the nexus. Never before have I seen such an amalgam of mount and tropic and scorched brush. There is beauty in the unnatural collaboration found in this place. There is also beauty found in the man sending us off from it.
I wave him a wave he cannot see and utter him, “Farewell, fair Feligo,” before enchanting Awyer’s body to rise.
And though he should not rightly hear me, the silverfox responds, “Farewell, fair fae.”
My pact with Awyer feels weaker than ever. Why, then, do I feel so real?
Chapter XIX: Mountain
“Is this what she meant by paff?”
Not a hundred paces from the bottom of the ramp, Pedj and I stumble across something . . . peculiar.
There is a circular hole in the grass. Wide enough for one pair of shoulders, the hole is not lined with dirt; therein appears to be liquid. Yes, I cannot be sure, but it looks to be filled with black ink or something equally viscous. Its glassy surface reflects the sky.
Or . . .
Upon further examination, it is not a true reflection, after all! It is not unnatural that my reflection should not show – I do not have a reflection to speak of – but Pedj, being fully real, should expect the liquid to mirror him, yet when he leans over the hole, his face does not show back! He hovers a hand above the fluid, and the image remains just the same.
No, it is not a true reflection.
The liquid reflects something chilling.
A great, gray mount towers in the wash.
I have seen that mount before. I know its sharp peak well.
“Yes, Pedj,” I answer him. “That is Ensecré.”
Pedj gulps and attempts to divert. “What’s this stuff?” He moves to dip a finger in the tap.
“Void, I would guess.”
“WAAAH!” He is quick to withdraw his finger. “So what?!” he squeals. “Is like a cwankin’ porfal?!”
“Aye. The physics of the world are haywire under this sleepness. Folds of Gold and distorts in time. It is not so surprising that Mael would leave a portal of Void.”
Once more, Pedj peers over the ink-filled hole, alike a child. “We can really get on through there?”
“I have played witness to Ark doing similar. He travels by Void. He did so at the Blue Capital and at the central falls, and even at the sibling rivers.”
“But that guy IS Void. Won’t be safe for us, will it?”
“If I am honest . . . I do not know.”
“GWIM!”
“I suppose it will depend on your faith in Mael.”
The Bloődite groans. Torn, he rubs the back of his head. “Why’d you have to put it like that, eh?”
“I will make it easier for you, then,” I tell him. I look to my pactor. “My bond with Awyer grows weak. I have noticed it over the past weeks. It weakens and weakens and soon I fear that it will break altogether. There are times when even without Gold present, my words reach the ears of those around me, and in those moments, I feel my pact with Awyer lessening. What is more, I have come to sleep and dream. My hair and fingernails grow. I age. Something is not right. I am urgent to awaken my sphinx from this curse. I expected to travel to Ensecré on foot, and I was fearful over what might become of us in that time. Now that a more efficient way presents itself . . . I must get to that place by any means, and the sooner the better.”
Pedj squirms. “What if it’s a twap?”
“No, I do not think so. At that time, Mael’s emotion was sincere. She could have smote you at any time, but she did not. If the voided portal is harmful, why did she not have Techton force us into one before ascending?”
“I guess . . .”
Pedj’s reluctance is high.
Even so, for the sake of my pactor, for the sake of my pact, I will go.
“If you wish to travel on foot, I will not stop you,” I say, resolute. “I, however, am going in, and whatever happens, even if I am tainted by Void in the process, it will not matter. The end is here, and I must allow my pact the best chance to survive. Please assist me with Awyer, and then you are free to go.”
“H-hey! Wait just a skosh! Never said I wasn’t comin’! Just coverin’ my bases, is all!”
T . . . Truly?!
I cannot keep from smiling. Indeed, it is good that Pedj was not sacrificed.
I make it a point to tell him so: “You know, I am glad that you were not eaten by the hellbeast, zombie.”
“Psh! Fanks a lot!” But he does not sound truly thankful.
I will never understand mortals.
The Void is cool and smooth and clings to my nonexistent flesh. I go feet-first, hovering over the hole and slowly lowering myself in until the thick liquid comes up to my neck. If I existed, I would hold my breath.
Lower still I go, until it covers up to my nose.
First giving a nod to my confidant, I hold to Awyer’s hand and submerge myself completely beneath the liquid. It does not feel as water feels. It is there, but it is not. It is alive, moving this way and that, writhing with energy from beyond the Vessel. If it dirties or corrupts, I can feel no difference. All that I feel is urgency.
Soon, very soon, I will again look my pactor in the face and he will stare back with golden eyes and then we will be free to live the vision he showed me.
That eastern sea, a place of bad omen, a place inhabited by few, if Time was telling the truth, that is where we will spend our days.
My sphinx and I.
The passing through the portal is brief. Just as soon as I am covered, I feel my feet emerge. Downward I move, through the ink, until my legs are completely exposed. I kick them. It is unsettling to have my feet dangle in such a way without knowing what is below!
Thankfully, I do not have to wait long for the rest of me to follow. In the way dew drips from the end of a drooped leaf, I am produced out of the Void, and when my eyes are free, I see that I am being born from the dark sky. The sky melts downward, delivering my body into this new place, until all that remains in the Void is my hand, reaching upward to Awyer’s.
Gently, the portal drips him onto the ground.
I lean over him to see that he is unh
armed. Wetted, his hair sticks to his face. How peaceful he looks, in slumber – though there is nothing peaceful about the portal’s destination. Cold rock, daunting fog, eeking mist. At the sight of it all, my stomach gives a lurch, and I am filled with dread.
The second time I fled this place, I prayed that it would be the last. How is it that I have come to willingly return?
The stench of Void is strong; the evilness of the air thick. Beneath a darkened sky, the mount that is Ensecré lurks, protruding toward the heavens, just as worn as its inhabitants. Around its base, the lake of fizzled enchants is no more. Without Bloőd and Azure to fuel them, the artifacts have gone silent. They have ceased their twitching and popping and whizzing. Now, all that stretches is clutter. Peaking toward the sky, the mountain’s top is alive with activity.
I squint.
A mighty golden beast circles the point, and from the creature’s back, blasts of Gold and Void fire. Mael and Techton . . . and mayhap even Bexwin are showering the mount with enchants of shimmer and smog.
And the mountain? It is firing back.
CLONK!
Pedj’s emergence from the dripping sky is far from graceful. Out of impatience, he appears to have tried swimming out from the portal. The result is an awkward state, as one leg and one arm hit the ground while the rest of him remains caught up in sticky, inky Void, which does not intend to let him release easily.
“MOTHER-CWANKIN’–”
A string of cussing resounds from his irritable mouth, but it is all but drowned out by the thundering of the heavens.
Black as Void, the clouds swirl against a sky that is almost just as black. Through its reaches, thunder roars, preceded by flashes of lighting that are not at all light. Gray, they cut across the voided sky, striking much more angrily than they should.
I am timorous over their wrath. Protectively, I bow over Awyer.
Once free of the portal, Pedj scampers from the ground to point at the circling creature and shriek, “That them?!”