by Jen Williams
‘Ye gods and little fishes,’ she said faintly. ‘Someone has some explaining to do.’ She shook her head. ‘Quickly now.’ They skirted in close, weaving through the fronds of Y’Gria’s questing body, now distracted by the attacking dragon, until abruptly they parted to reveal the god herself. She was human at the very centre, although many times the size of a normal human being – her green hair was a wild tangle, and her face was contorted with rage. Her lower half was a cascading confusion of tentacles, and she pushed herself up on these, confronting the dragon. Sliding the target from the satchel, Wydrin leaned out as they flew past and slapped it on the god’s shoulder. She saw it glow as the mages’ words sank home, but Y’Gria was too occupied by her new attacker, and in moments they were diving away below roof level, keeping out of sight.
‘One more to go,’ said Wydrin. ‘And it’s a biggun.’
93
Sebastian’s blood soared with the silver tide.
Tia’mast followed his commands eagerly, the two of them working together as one. There was a fierce joy to this: to the hunt, to the destruction of those who would act against them. He took the dragon first to Y’Gria, tearing her roots aside as easily as sweeping his sword through long grass. The rage and the terror on her face was like a balm, and he urged Tia’mast on.
This one seeks to rule us all, he said. She wishes to impose her wishes on the great god Tia’mast.
The dragon roared his disapproval and sent a blanket of flame crawling over the rival god. Y’Gria screeched, striking out with her roots, but they all fell away into blackened pieces. There was a flicker of golden lights, and Oster was there, attacking with them – the golden dragon leapt at the heart of the woman and slashed with crystal claws. Sebastian felt Tia’mast’s focus sharpen on the newcomer, aggression growing in his heart.
No, there is no danger here. Sebastian opened the link between them a little wider, showing the dragon his regard for Oster, the love he felt for him. For the first time, he acknowledged it himself, and shared that with the dragon, also. This is a friend. And my bond-mate.
Tia’mast accepted this easily enough, and Sebastian relaxed. He pulled the great dragon back from Y’Gria, who was now having enough difficulty dealing with Oster, and turned him towards Y’Ruen.
There is someone else you should meet.
Wydrin slapped the final target home, watching with satisfaction as the mage words sank into Y’Ruen’s shining blue scales. The beast herself, so mighty and so fearsome, was busy clawing desperately for her life against the enormous bulk of Sebastian’s dragon.
They fought now some distance above Krete, roiling and snapping and lunging at each other, like a nest of celestial snakes. It was such an extraordinary sight that Wydrin could feel her mind recoiling from it, refusing to believe the truth of it. She urged Feveroot away, swooping down over the city and coming in fast towards the Citadel. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the flare Selsye had given her to use as the signal.
‘Be ready now, my friend,’ she said. ‘I will need you to fly as fast as you have ever flown. Can you do that?’
‘I preferred being a tree, less rushing about,’ said Feveroot. When she kicked at his side, he continued. ‘Of course. One last push.’
Holding the flare above her head, she bent low over Feveroot and pulled the fuse. There was a crackle, and they were bathed in a deep red glow.
‘I’m coming for you, princeling. Be ready.’
Slowly Frith opened his eyes. He was lying on his back in the half-built Citadel garden, and directly overhead a pair of dragons were locked in violent combat. The wind from their wings battered him, blowing his hair into his eyes. Groaning, he turned over, looking out across the city. His vision was still dark at the edges, and it was difficult to focus, but beyond the fire and the smoke he could see a single point of red light, far across the other side of Krete. The signal. It was time to activate the trap – and not a moment too soon. If Krete had not already fallen, then the end was seconds away.
Summoning the last of his strength, Frith dragged himself to his feet, and then stood for a moment, fighting to stay upright. His heart thudded sickly in his chest as if every movement was a grievous injury, and his head felt as though he stood on the deck of a ship during the worst of storms. Just the thought of running down to the chamber made his stomach churn, but there was no choice. The final moments had come.
Falling more than walking, Frith forced himself across the gardens to the entrance, and then down the stone steps. His legs felt full of water, and as he descended, his mind presented any number of unhelpful memories – their first journey below the Citadel, the monsters that waited for them there, the agony of the mages’ lake. Forcing those thoughts aside he pounded his way down the steps, down into the chamber Selsye and Joah had made to house the gods. There, the device waited for him.
He wondered if Wydrin would get to him in time. If anyone could, it would be her.
Laying his hands on the device, he pushed the last pieces into place, and there was a blinding flash of light. For the briefest second he could see the bones in his own fingers, and then a pulse of tremendous energy passed through him and out, a widening circle of magic. Frith sank to his knees, the last of his strength gone.
‘I won’t be alone for long, at least,’ he whispered to the chamber.
Wydrin and Feveroot tore across Krete, an arrow of black through the smoke and flames.
There was a pressure against her ears and then she felt a rippling shiver move through her. She knew without question that it was Frith’s trap, reaching out for the gods she had painted with targets, ready to drag them all to their final resting places. There would be very little time now. Very little time at all.
The Citadel burst into view through the smoke and Feveroot dived towards it, heedless of what would happen if they crashed straight into the stones. Instead, he swept down into the entrance and into the corridors, moving so fast that Wydrin could see nothing but a blur of stone as they swept past. There was a rumble from behind them, and Wydrin felt a cold hand walk down her spine. The gods were coming.
In moments they were in the chamber itself, skidding to a halt and crashing into the far wall. Wydrin stumbled from Feveroot’s back to see Frith, lying on his side next to the device. ‘Frith!’
At the sound of her voice he stirred, lifting his head with some difficulty. ‘My love?’
‘Ye gods. Quickly!’ She ran to him and dragged him up, pushing him with little care for his dignity onto Feveroot’s back. Climbing on behind him, she wrapped her arms around his midriff and held on for dear life.
‘If you were holding out on me, Feveroot, now’s the time to show off!’
The demon sprang forward, his griffin form dissolving and becoming something else, something more streamlined and more snakelike. Wydrin had a moment to wonder if this was closer to his true form before they were racing up, up to the outside world. They had almost made it when the passageway they fled down was filled with roaring noise and blinding light. There was something else in there with them, something huge. Wydrin screwed her eyes shut against the light, but the voice thundered in her ears. It was Y’Gria.
You cannot do this to us! You will all die!
The god was struggling against the force that dragged her to her confinement, roots filling the narrow passageway as she scrambled for purchase. Wydrin felt several loop around her and Frith, pulling tight and dragging them back with the god. She heard Feveroot cry out in distress as the tentacles wrapped around his slipping, changing form.
‘Your time is over!’ screamed Wydrin. ‘Accept it!’
NEVER!
A thick root slipped around her throat and began to squeeze. Desperately she tried to push her fingers under it, to loosen it somehow, but it was much too strong. They were still moving slowly backwards towards the chamber, inch by inch, despite Y’Gria’s desperate crawling. Wydrin tried to take comfort in that – they would go to their deaths, but so would the gods
.
‘Wydrin, are you with me?’ Frith sounded confused.
She let go of the tentacle and wrapped her arms around Frith again, holding him close and pressing her cheek to his neck. ‘Always,’ she said. ‘I’ll always be with you, my love.’
Her fingers slipped over something tucked into his shirt, and she realised it was the charm she had bought for him; the one that supposedly protected against Y’Gria. In a small act of defiance, she pulled it free and threw it behind them. The charm maker would be glad, at least, although she was likely dead now too.
The effect was immediate. There was a deafening shriek and the tendrils holding them in place whipped away like they had been scalded. Losing her grip, the god was sucked back down the tunnel away from them, and abruptly they were free.
Feveroot shot forward, and within seconds they were out in the blessed light.
Sebastian saw the last of it from his vantage point on Tia’mast.
One moment he and the dragon were locked in deadly combat with Y’Ruen, claws scrabbling against scales as strong as steel, jaws snapping at flesh, and the next she was gone, torn away from him as Frith’s spell dragged her to her prison within the Citadel. For a few dizzying seconds Sebastian felt an enormous void of disappointment in his heart – to have the hunt taken away when he had yet to finish his kill – and then his attention was taken by the other gods being dragged across Krete.
Y’Gria was the first to go, shrinking and becoming lesser, somehow, as the magic took her within its grasp, and then Res’ni and Res’na. They struggled and they bellowed their fury, but the spell was relentless. They churned up the ground as they went, boiling it with the heat of their anger and then they vanished, one by one, into the Citadel. Res’ni was the last to go, her anguished howl echoing across the city, and then she was gone. Sebastian felt Y’Ruen’s presence diminish as the spells closed over her, trapping her with her brother and sisters for the next thousand years. A strange silence fell. The Citadel itself shook once, as the beings encased inside it tested their boundaries, and a ring of dust gusted out from around it as though the building itself shifted in its foundations, and then all was still.
The city looked half destroyed, many of the buildings stamped flat or on fire, but Sebastian could already see efforts to control the flames. Some of the mages still lived. Many of the people had survived. He took a slow breath, consciously drawing himself back from the battle rage that had consumed him.
Brother, our enemies have fled. Tia’mast’s voice was partly victorious, partly disappointed. Sebastian knew how he felt. Down to the west of the city, the shining shape of Oster was still visible along the wall, and then he vanished. He would be in his human form now, lest he attract the ire of the mages himself. Sebastian felt his chest grow tight; he would have to find Oster. He needed to talk to him. Suddenly, the silver tide seemed unimportant. Absently, he reassured the dragon.
They are gone, yes. We no longer have to fight.
There was silence from the dragon. And then, There are other magical beings down there. Small creatures. They will be easy prey, but my blood-thirst has been awakened, brother.
No. Sebastian attempted to reassert control, but now that their mutual enemies were gone, Tia’mast’s solitary nature was resurfacing. Unbidden, the dragon began to descend towards the city. They mean you no harm!
That is not what I can taste in their magic, said Tia’mast, and Sebastian felt the hunt-hunger come over the dragon once more.
‘You know,’ said Wydrin. ‘We really need to stop unleashing dragons.’
They stood together on the Citadel steps, Frith leaning heavily on Wydrin, watching as the giant dragon – the ancient god of an ancient Ede – descended towards Krete, jaws open. Fire was already starting to boil in the back of its throat.
‘I can do it,’ said Frith. ‘I can send him back.’
Wydrin looked at him sceptically. ‘You are dead on your feet already for summoning him in the first place.’
‘I can do it, my love.’ He smiled at her. In the morning light her hair was the colour of beaten gold, her eyes like jade. He thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful. ‘Sebastian took control of the dragon when I summoned it, I felt him do it, but he has lost that control now. What other choice do we have?’
‘Then we’ll have to go and fetch Sebastian, I suppose.’ She looked down at Feveroot, who was back in his griffin form, panting heavily. ‘Up for one more flight, Feveroot?’
The demon turned his head. ‘Do I have a choice?’
Wydrin grinned. ‘Of course you do, now. That’s the point, isn’t it?’
They clambered back onto Feveroot’s back, the demon making himself slightly larger without needing to be asked, and they were back up in the smoke-smeared sky in seconds. Frith sat ahead of Wydrin, and he squeezed the hand that circled his waist.
‘Hold on to me,’ he told her. ‘I might pass out.’ He paused, and then added. ‘This really is like old times, isn’t it?’
‘Too much so,’ replied Wydrin. ‘We need to get some new times.’
Feveroot took them fast and close, not giving the giant dragon time to notice them, until they were hovering over its head like a fly over a restless sow. Wydrin leaned out and waved.
‘Sebastian!’
The knight looked up, and to Frith’s relief, reached out for them. Feveroot swept in as close as he could get, and Wydrin hauled the big knight up onto the griffin’s back. Below them the dragon’s great neck twisted, as though listening to something far away.
‘Quickly,’ said Sebastian. ‘I am doing my best to calm him, but he is confused and fast becoming angry. If you can do something, do it now.’
Feeling Wydrin’s arms circle around his waist, Frith held out one hand towards the dragon and summoned the time magic. Faster than ever before, everything around him grew blessedly still – the magic grew stronger every time he used it, even as it burned away his strength – and he reached out for the god, feeling for the relic it had once been. Your time is over, he thought, not unkindly, it was over long ago. Stronger than anything he’d experienced, he felt the dragon trying to turn within his grip; it wanted to see who or what was commanding him so. Frith pushed with the last of his strength and the dragon’s brilliant emerald scales grew dull and dusty, its glaring eyes sinking into its head. The flesh fell away into fibres and dust, and then the brilliant bones of pure Edeian were exposed to the light, until they, too, were washed away by time. At last, there was the final piece, the shard of Tia’mast’s skull, and Frith let go, the magic winking out like a candle in a storm. He saw it falling away, tumbling down to smash to pieces on the streets of Krete, and then exhaustion swept in to claim him.
94
The fires were out, but the city still smelled of smoke.
Sebastian stood by the tall window, listening to the sounds of a place putting itself back together again. The mages, he knew, were working in shifts – resting and then building, resting and then healing. The days and nights would be long for them, for some time.
Xinian and Selsye had found them at the Citadel, and immediately Selsye had set to work double checking all the seals and spells, an expression of fierce concentration on her face, while Xinian had sent them back to the palace, telling them to use her apartments as a place to recover and take stock. He guessed from Xinian’s wry expression that she would not see her own bed for some hours, particularly now that she appeared to be in charge of everyone. Eventually, he knew, they would put in place all the secrets and the traps that would keep the Citadel sealed off to everyone but the mages – the Culoss, the Mages’ Lake – these things would be in their future.
He took a sip from his goblet of wine, and allowed himself to relax. The gods were where they needed to be, and they had lived through the final battle. There was no reason to feel sad.
As if he had summoned him, Sebastian felt a shiver in his dragon blood and turned to the door just before Oster stepped through it. He put the goble
t down on a nearby table.
‘Oster.’ He wasn’t sure what else to say. Oster nodded to him, and there were a few moments of awkward silence.
‘I saw your friend in the corridor,’ said Oster eventually. He had changed into clean clothes, a cream tunic and a red jacket that suited him very well. There was a bruise on his cheek. Sebastian tried to remember if he’d seen him injured so before. ‘Wydrin. She embraced me, and then told me that I should “knock off all that god stuff”. She said everyone should.’
Sebastian smiled, despite himself. ‘Yes, well. She’s not exactly a fan of gods these days.’
Oster nodded thoughtfully and came further into the room, walking towards the window where Sebastian was and then stopping, as if thinking better of it. He didn’t quite meet Sebastian’s eyes as he continued speaking. ‘Your other friend, the one with white hair, says he can take us back to … where we came from.’
The silver link between them thrummed. Sebastian caught his breath and turned away. How could he feel so close to someone, and yet not have words for what he needed to say? He busied himself with finding another goblet and filling it with wine, although when it came time to offer it to Oster he avoided his eyes. ‘Frith is fairly confident.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The magic he gained travelling through Euriale is the key, apparently. We’ll go back to the island, and he will pull us through time.’ He shook his head slightly. ‘I don’t pretend to understand it, but Xinian has already offered us the use of a carapacer to get there. I think she will be relieved when we’re gone.’