ARC: Sunstone

by Freya Robertson

  I need you…

  He didn’t want to be needed. He wanted to escape. But beside him, Demitto appeared unable to move, his sunstone still emitting light and fire, and next to him Catena was yelling and trying to get the pendant from around his neck. The King and Queen had vanished along with most of the dignitaries, and the Nox Aves in their grey robes were running around trying to shepherd people out of the arena. Nobody was paying attention to him. He was all alone.

  Alone, except for the small warm body that pressed against his legs.

  His heart pounding and panic rising within him, Tahir managed to look down, and he caught his breath at the sight of Atavus curled up by his feet. In spite of the noise, the fire, and the white-hot ash that was starting to settle on the grass, Atavus refused to leave his side.

  The dog’s brown eyes looked up, but he didn’t rise or fuss. He just lay there, as if he knew exactly what was happening, and had already come to terms with his fate.

  Tahir went still and ceased to struggle. This was what he had waited for his whole life. The day was finally here. He had known this was going to happen – all right, maybe not exactly this way, but he had known the Apex would bring with it a momentous time of struggle, a battle that needed to be fought. And he was part of that battle. There was no point in denying it now.

  Catena had finally managed to get the pendant over Demitto’s head, and they let it drop to the ground and backed away, trying to cover their heads as the sunstone grew even brighter and more ash rained down.

  “You cannot help him,” Demitto yelled as Catena tried to pull away from his tight grip. His eyes met Tahir’s, full of sorrow.

  Tahir couldn’t speak but tried to convey his thoughts in his gaze. It is all right. I understand. Go!

  As they turned and ran, Tahir pushed away the worry of what would happen to them. They had delivered him to the Arbor – their role was done. Now he just had to finish it.

  Through the misty haze of time, he could see Horada channelling the Arbor’s power, connecting them with Sarra in the future, who lay on the ground, crying out as pain racked her. Beside her stood the man with the silvery hair, his sunstone also blinding, and before him another man stood with hands plunged into a fiery dome above their heads. Everyone was in their rightful place, playing their part.

  Tahir closed his eyes against the dazzling brightness. He had to focus now on how he could help.

  He concentrated on his body and the tree in his arms. On what he could feel and what he could touch. As he calmed himself, he realised that he had already begun to join with the Arbor without noticing it. The rough edges of the bark bit into the soft skin of his cheek, his arms and his tummy where he pressed against it. As the roots tightened around him, his skin broke in several places and blood flowed, but he felt no pain, only a flood of exultancy that at last it was beginning.

  The sound of singing rose again and, as the voices soothed him, so the roots touched his feet, wriggled through the gaps in his leather shoes, wrapped around his ankles, penetrated between his toes. They forced their way into his skin, crept into his body, spread up through his calves, his knees, his thighs, into his stomach. He felt them slide into his skull, close around his heart, joining it with the thousands of others it had absorbed over the years, making them into one – the Pectoris, the heart of the Arbor.

  Ash poured down, coating the dog at his feet, the bodies of those who had fallen. Demitto and Catena ran across the arena. Now a part of the tree, Tahir was aware that they had reached Manifred where he stood by the entrance to a hole in the ground. Steps led downwards, into the darkness, and Manifred and other Nox Aves were trying to get as many people as possible down the steps.

  A refuge, he thought. They were trying to hide them from the Incendi.

  Even as he thought their name, through the mists of time he saw the man standing near Horada, hands raised in flame as he called the Incendi king into the world. And in his own time, as the volcano began to spit rocks and lava across the countryside, so the Incendi soldiers began to pour from their city beneath the mountain.

  Through the Arbor’s roots, Tahir saw it all happen. The volcano had tipped the balance of the elements in the Incendi’s favour. With fire surging through the land, they were finally able to break through the tree’s control. Hidden within the thousands of men, the elementals streamed forth, and as the temperature rose and a pyroclastic flow of liquid rock poured down sweeping everything in its wake, the men were engulfed and the elementals released to burst forth into this new fiery land.

  Hot ash curled the Arbor’s leaves, turning them to dust. At his feet, Atavus lay buried beneath the growing carpet of white. Tahir saw people screaming, dying, and he wept for them, for the Arbor and for himself. The elementals were closing on Heartwood, spreading through its streets. Liquid rock sped down from the volcano, and people ran, crying and yelling, only to be incinerated as they met the elementals coming the other way.

  The city was going to fall, Tahir thought. The tree would burn. And all those who were trying to hide underground would be taken by the elementals. Earth would be destroyed, and fire would remain supreme forever and ever. And he was powerless to do anything to stop it.

  Wasn’t he?

  III

  Sarra screamed as Geve plunged his hands into the fiery dome above their heads. She had seen the look in his eyes as he stared at her – he had been saying goodbye. He had known this would lead to his death. But still he had done it, aware that this was what the seedling needed – a sacrifice, a burst of life in this land of dust and death.

  Still, she did not want to accept it. She had known him since childhood and loved him like a brother, and the thought of him giving up his life wrenched her heart in two. But she couldn’t do anything about it. Racked with labour pains, she could only lie there and scream and clench her fists and sweat as the dome glowed even brighter, somehow managing to keep the firebird at bay.

  Her head was full of noise and light, her ears ringing. Betune and Amabil were yelling instructions to each other; Viel, Josse and Paronel were standing before Comminor, shocked at the power emitting from their sunstones, and Nele had crossed to the seedling, trying to support it as it struggled to keep growing.

  Her present contraction faded, and Sarra let her head fall back, now completely exhausted. This baby was never going to be born. Had she known it would be this painful, she would never have lain with Rauf. “It hurts,” she sobbed, only vaguely aware of Betune wiping her brow with a welcome damp cloth, her skin drying the moment the cloth was lifted.

  “It will not be long now,” Amabil said from the other side of her.

  Sarra couldn’t believe her words. She felt stuck in time, caught in a loop of events that went around and around with no beginning or end. Things would always be like this – hot, intense, her body taut with pain like a fishing line, filled with a hope that things would come to a conclusion, but they never did, they just went on and on and on…

  The air shimmered in the heat, and she became aware of ash falling softly around her. When it touched her skin or the ground, however, it vanished. To either side, figures appeared as if out of a mist, only to fade away again. Images flickered, and she couldn’t be sure whether she was delirious or whether they were actually there.

  Another contraction began, and she squeezed her eyes shut as it swept over her. All her concentration focussed on her body, and the world faded away. It didn’t matter that beyond the dome, the firebird swooped in a circle, screeching and threatening to incinerate them all in a blink of an eye, or that her favourite person in the whole world was going to die, or that everything else was falling apart. All she could think about at that moment was the pain.

  And this time, the pain had changed. She felt an unavoidable urge to push, and when the contraction finally lessened, she told the women what had happened.

  “It is time,” Amabil said, gesturing for Paronel to ready the last few blankets. “Your baby will be born soon, Sarra.�
�� She smiled, although Sarra could see the fear and worry deep in her eyes. “Do not think of anything else – let us just get the baby out of you.”

  “I cannot do it,” Sarra sobbed. The thought of trying to get a whole person out of her seemed impossible. “Do not make me do it.”

  “It is all right.” They soothed her, stroked her brow. “This is normal, Sarra,” Amabil told her. “You are in transition. It means you are nearly there. Think of your baby in your arms!”

  Sarra lay back, conscious once again of the figures fading in and out around her. She had been led to this place – why? She had thought her baby was supposed to save the world. But how could that happen now? The dreams she’d had of the Surface – she’d assumed they had meant she would be bringing the child up in a land full of grass and sun, not fire and death. If she’d stayed in the Embers, Comminor would have taken her as his mate and the baby would have been safe. What had she done?

  Figures appeared once again through the mist. Through the falling ash, she could see the young woman she remembered from the ceremonial room. Sarra could see the light beams from all the sunstones passing through her, as she realised that this woman was the key to them all connecting. And beside her, the one they called Cinereo stood, fading in and out of each scene, bringing them all together.

  Sarra was not a scholar, and she did not fully understand everything Comminor had tried to explain to them about time and the events that had led to this day. But she did realise that this was the Apex he had spoken of. Right now, somehow, all three times had become one, the events simultaneous. What was happening all those hundreds and thousands of years ago was somehow having a direct effect on what was happening here. Time had disappeared.

  And suddenly she realised she was not alone. The Arbor had seen its death all those years ago and somehow it had managed to engineer this culmination of events. It wanted them to work together to save it, to save the world. She could see the people in each time period working together, and she was at the end of the line, the last of those on whom the Arbor was relying.

  But what would the outcome be? Was that future fixed, or still uncertain?

  Behind the young woman standing by the Arbor, Sarra could see a man. Fire erupted from his hands, building, burning, travelling along the timelines into the future. He was the reason the ash was falling; because of him the Arbor’s control on the world had slipped. She could see the lava pouring down the mountainside. It was going to flood Heartwood – it was going to burn the tree.

  Next to her, Geve cried out, the dome above their heads flickering. Pain etched his face, but still he stood there as if holding the dome up, and she knew he would not move until his strength gave out.

  Their world teetered on a knife edge, and she could not see the way clear. It helped to know she was not alone, but the firebird’s breath repeatedly blasted the dome that was keeping them safe, and she could not envisage a future that did not involve fire and flame. How could they all make it out of this alive?

  Another contraction claimed her, this one more powerful than the last, and again she felt the unavoidable urge to push.

  Gritting her teeth and holding on to Amabil’s hand, she let the world fade away and bore down as hard as she could.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I

  Orsin had never felt so exultant, so wonderfully alive. Fire poured through his veins and lit up the world in a blaze of gold, and he could hear the roar of the Incendi echoing through the Arbor’s roots, across land, across time. For the first time in his life, he felt powerful and strong. No one could say he was insignificant, that he did not have a part to play in the world. Nobody could ignore him now.

  Around him, he was vaguely aware of figures trying to get him to stop – he could see his brother, Dolosus and Gravis all trying to approach him, but the flames pushed them back, and even though they threw water on him, it evaporated before it even touched his skin. Hate billowed through him like the flame – hate and resentment over everything they had said or done to him in the past to make him feel insignificant and small. Now they would pay for what they had done. No longer could they pretend as though he didn’t exist.

  Through the mists of time, he saw the people running across the wide, grassy space heading for the darkness of a cave entrance, but he could see they were not going to make it. The liquid rock ran down the mountainside like water, and the ash that fell on hair and shoulders made the men and women scream in pain.

  Hidden in the depths of his heart like a jewel amidst the darkness of his pain and hate, something glittered.

  Orsin jerked and opened his eyes. Julen, Dolosus and all the others had moved away to leave a single person standing before him. Dressed in a cloak of grey, the hood covering his head, the man they called Cinereo stood silently, and waited.

  Orsin let the fire rage through him. “Nobody can stop me!” he yelled. He watched as his sister trembled in the distance from the effort of keeping the Apex together. She looked very young and small. How could she possibly think she could be strong enough to keep it up?

  In front of him, Cinereo raised his head, and for the first time pushed the hood from his face.

  Orsin stared, shocked. It was his father.

  Chonrad studied his son, and his strong, handsome features portrayed his hurt and disappointment. “My son,” he said, his voice ringing clear about the noise of the fire and the screams of the people echoing through time. “What are you doing?”

  “Get away from me,” Orsin snarled, bringing his hands before his face to channel flame in the man’s direction. Fire billowed from him, but although it swept right over his father, when the flames finally died down, he remained untouched.

  “You cannot hurt me,” Chonrad said calmly.

  “Because you are not really here,” Orsin said through gritted teeth.

  “I am here. I just do not have physical form.”

  Orsin closed his eyes. They were trying to force him to stop by appealing to his past, to his grief and love for the man who had died, but he would not let them.

  “They have not brought me here,” Chonrad said as if reading his mind. “I am here of my own free will.”

  “You cannot be,” Orsin snapped. “You are a figment of my imagination. How can you possibly be here?”

  “When we die, we do not just disappear. Our bodies are returned to the earth, but our souls live on, Orsin.”

  Orsin stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “The Arbor absorbs our energy. It is all a cycle, Orsin, life and death. Like the trees in the forests that lose their leaves in The Falling; they do not die. They just rest in the darkness and wait for The Stirring to come. And when it arrives, they begin their growth again. And when eventually they fall, they lend their energy to the next tree that takes its place.”

  He moved closer to his son, and although Orsin went to take a step back, he found he could not move his feet. Fire still raged through him and his form leapt with flame, but his father seemed oblivious to it. His eyes fixed on his son’s face, he walked forward until he stood only a couple of feet away.

  “I live within you,” he said, his voice so soft that Orsin could not understand how the words rang in his ears like a bell. “I will always be with you, my son.”

  “You left me,” Orsin yelled. “First you sent me away, and then when I finally came back, you left me!”

  Chonrad’s forehead creased. “The Arbor needed me, and I could not refuse. I tried to help it, but the Incendi were waiting and they destroyed my link with the tree before I could stop them. I did not mean to leave you, Orsin. I love you.”

  “Say no more!” Orsin’s chest hurt, so full of grief and sorrow it felt as if his heart would burst.

  “You must stop this,” Chonrad said gently.

  “I cannot. I will not! Pyra is the only one who has treated me with respect – who believes I am worthwhile.”

  Chonrad’s expression hardened. “You think he has welcomed you into hi
s arms because he loves you? He sees you as a doorway through which he can bring his army into the world – nothing more.”

  “That is not true!”

  “Orsin. It is time you stopped demanding respect from everyone else, and expecting them to bring your world to rights.” Concern lit Chonrad’s eyes. “You are so full of hurt and hatred that you cannot see the way clearly. You need to take your fate in both hands and do what is right.”

  “Who is to say what is right? I do not care anymore. You all abandoned me, but Pyra accepted me – he is the only one who has ever made me feel I matter.”

  In spite of his words, however, once again Orsin felt the glitter of something deep within him. The fire flickering around his hands faltered, and he cursed and urged it through him.

  “You matter to me,” Chonrad said softly.

  “You sent me away.”

  “To keep you safe.” Chonrad hesitated. “I have always known that my children would play an instrumental role in the Arbor’s future. It told me, the day of the Last Stand when I opened the fifth and final Node. And I could not bear to think that you might suffer.”

  “You did not send Julen or Horada away,” Orsin said, aware as he spoke that he sounded like a petulant child.

  “That is because you are my eldest son and heir,” Chonrad said. And he smiled. “You will always be special to me because of that. And nobody can take that relationship away from us.”

  To Orsin’s shock, Chonrad walked forward into the flames leaping around him. “Keep away!” he said in alarm, but his father put his arms around him and drew him close.

  “My son,” said Chonrad. “I am so sorry.”

  Deep inside, Orsin felt something give, like a tree branch that has been bearing the weight of too many leaves for too long. “Do not,” he said hoarsely as the guilt and remorse that had nestled within him finally broke free and flooded through him. “I cannot bear it.”