by TL Rese
“But – but why?”
She sighed. “Fear. Many here are afraid of your world. Yes, many find it fascinating, but it’s also a violent place with terrible weapons unlike any here.”
“Terrible weapons? You sliced a gun in half. I don’t think you need to be afraid of our weapons.”
“Not just guns. You have other weapons. Weapons that could lay flat a whole city in less than a second, Kevin. What if your world knew about ours? What if there was war?” Strands of her hair lay dark across her pale face. Her silver eyes were striking in the dim light. When she spoke again, her words were gentle. “All the councilors agree, Kevin. I don’t. I’d let you go back anytime. But I cannot overrule the entire council. They think it would be too dangerous for Alhallra.”
“I won’t tell anyone. No one would believe me even if I did. I’d get locked up in an insane asylum. You know that.”
“I know. But they don’t want to risk it, Kevin. And they don’t like the idea that you could bring more of your kind here.”
“You mean they’re worried we could… invade?”
“Maybe not at first. But open contact between new lands… isn’t often peaceful.”
“We don’t even have a key.”
“Secrecy protects better than locks and keys. Keys can be stolen, found, made… Kevin, it’s our whole world at stake.”
Slowly, I shook my head. “It can’t be.”
“I’m sorry, Kevin.”
“It can’t be,” I said again.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
I stared out the muralled windows. The white lights were mirrored on the glass panes. I looked at my reflection and hers, translucent against the frosted legends. The castle spires turned through the night beyond, adorned with silks for the winter festivities.
As I watched, the beauty of this world that I had fallen into paled in a sickly way. As the colors drained, memories came to me in a vivid recollection.
I could see Christmas days spent by the television with the entire family and families of family, the same movies playing over and over; I remembered my dinner-before-dinners. In the summers, I often went surfing with my sister and played beach volleyball with my friends. I would drive my car to the beach to show it off. I loved my car. Sometimes, I would drive my friends to San Francisco to catch a movie or dinner; I used to always go to San Francisco with Brendon and our buddies. I would have gone that night, a night that seemed so long ago, but –
I would have gone. But I had met Audrey. I breathed out slowly. My breath felt heavy. It formed a circle of white on the glass, just as it had on the surface of Audrey’s shield, a lifetime ago. Beyond my breath’s fading pallor, I saw the towers of the castle, like icicles in a black sky. Far behind them, the city lights were silver. Alhallra stretched, a strange reality. Cold, in a relentless permanence.
“Audrey,” I whispered, “you have to help me.”
But she only stood, sad and silent.
• • •
She walked me back to my chamber in silence. We had left the glass open at the balcony and white moths had fluttered in. They hovered around the fireplace, white powder puffing from their wings. I sat on the bed and stared at the moths.
Audrey moved to the fireplace and took out part of the fire. The flames leapt in her palms, lighting her face into a pale, frightening glow. She made the flames die down until they simmered, flickering from white orbs in her hands, larger equivalents of the Alhallren matches.
“Good night, Kevin,” she said, almost sadly, before she slipped from the room. There was a soft clink as she closed the glass behind her. And all was stillness.
Anxiety welled up in me as I sat in the dim firelight. The moths played about the chamber, the light on their powdered wings. Past the translucent bed curtains, I saw the snow falling outside the glass walls. I wished the sight brought wonder to me. But instead, it made me think, with an empty fear, about what it would be like to live forever in this land of winter.
I picked up my brown sack, pulled out my jeans and fumbled through the pockets. Amongst other junk, I found a piece of loose paper, as well as the pen I carried in my back pocket. I scribbled a note by the fire, reading it over, a thumping loud in my chest.
Satisfied, I stepped around the moths to look out the glass, down into the garden. Ravens flew among the garden branches. I opened the glass and walked out into the frozen night.
I found my way to the garden. The way was short and easy, along some snowy stairs. My feet were surprisingly warm despite the thinness of my slippers.
The garden was larger than I had thought, looking at it from my room. It was entirely blanketed, thick with snow. The ravens perched on the boughs, their black feathers fluffed against the cold. Scant leaves clung to the branches and fell occasionally with the breeze. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I only held out my arm.
There was no response. Several ravens had their heads tucked into their wings, their eyes squeezed shut. Others blinked lazily at me, while some cocked their heads and peered at me. Finally, one opened its wings and flew down to perch on my arm.
I blew off a layer of snow that had settled white across its back. I rolled up my note and tucked it beneath its wing. I recalled the way Audrey had whispered Satinah’s name before sending the messenger away. “Jesath,” I said. And hoped I’d done it correctly.
The messenger opened its wings and flew from my arm. I watched until I could no longer see its dark shape through the falling snow.
• • •
I don’t think I slept at all that night. A plague of worries stormed my mind in ways that not even the warm mist of the bed could subdue to sleep.
I got out of bed once and changed into my jeans and t-shirt. I spent the rest of the night watching the moths fluttering against my bed curtains, their wings leaving traces of white dust on the sheets. The fireplace threw the moths’ shadows dancing across my bedcovers.
A dim blue light was bathing the spires of the castle when the messenger returned to me, settling on the glass balcony. I brought the bird in. Beneath its wing was a rolled note. I sighed with relief.
I unrolled the paper and a reed fell out onto my hand along with a silver ring. The note read only: ‘Good luck!’ I put the ring on my finger. The silver circlet had an engraving across it. I didn’t know the Alhallren letters, but I remembered Satinah had read them in the touch: Gate of the Dark Plains.
The messenger was warming itself by the fireplace. With the reed clutched in my hand, I turned the key around my finger, studying the way the firelight laid itself across the curves of the engraving. I tried to keep my breathing steady, but already the ring and reed were moist with the sweat from my hands. Anxiety was slowly building in my throat.
I pulled on the fur coat and walked outside onto the glass of the balcony. Along the curve of the horizon, the thin blue light that washed the castle towers was strengthening into a golden hue. The day would soon be here. With a dread that made me sick, I blew into the reed, hoping no one would hear it but the one it was intended for. And then I waited.
On the snows of the garden, I caught a movement that I wouldn’t have seen if I hadn’t been looking for it. Its nightblue feathers blended almost perfectly into the shadows of the foliage. It ran lightly along the snow, hardly visible in a streak of shade. Then the eira lifted in flight and flew to me. It alighted on the balcony.
“Hey,” I said, stroking its feathers. “Good to see you again. How’re things back at Jesath’s?” It bent its neck and nuzzled me with its beak. I took that as a good sign. It raised its head, tossing the ropes around it. Jesath had been kind enough to rein the eira for me. I wondered if I would see him again. If I succeeded, I would probably never visit the Philosopher’s Corner again, or the market with the giant flowers, or drink fairies’ blood or firecracker flakes. I would never see Jesath. And I would never see Audrey. Either way, a whole world would be lost to me.
On the horizon, a golden line appeared, thin and clear. Already, t
he light was threatening to fade the stars in the sky. I could not afford to linger anymore.
I leapt onto the eira and smiled triumphantly. My riding skills had improved. I only hoped I could remember the commands. I blew a lilt, the note rising high, and the bird lifted into the air.
I took a last look at the towers of the castle, draped in winter silks. The crystal city fell away into the swirls of snow beneath me as I rose into the cold air.
Audrey would know I had left. She would come after me soon. I was sure of it.
Chapter 31