Evenstar

by Darcy Town

  Paimon resisted the urge to punch him. Instead, he shoved scotch in his face. “Drink, it’s your favorite.”

  Furcas eyed the label. “I’m not going to talk just because I get drunk.”

  “No, but you’ll be loopy when I have to pull your staples out one by one and re-sew you.”

  Furcas went pale. “Get me a Sippy-Straw.”

  ***

  The City.

  Such a simple name for a strange and twisting place. A cavern that ran underneath the earth, its high cathedral ceilings rose with mountain ranges. Its tiled or pebbled floors plummeted with the abyss of the ocean. The City spiraled and looped, bunched together and changed with the seasons. Lamps hung from the ceiling like stars in the sky. Soft grass and moss covered the unpaved steps. Rivers of water and light ran weaving courses through the worn stone. It was a refuge buried under earth and time.

  Buildings shifted and changed to suit the needs of the occupants. Some were squat, while others rose to leaping heights or formed aeries in the rock face itself. The stone reflected hues of vermillion, amber, and garnet; precious gems studded the walls.

  The City was divided into boroughs, domains of families, each area developed to fit its varied inhabitants. The center point of the City was a palace, and within that, the Sanctuary. The palace was as ever changing as the City. In the time of purges, as it was now, the palace took on the austere presence of a fortress. It had expanded to hold food, water, and supplies. The wounded and dying were drawn into its walls to be healed or prepared for burial. Armored ranks of the City Guard waited inside and on the walls, staring ever outwards down the Grand Promenade toward the Old Road.

  The Old Road consisted of countless passages and caves. It had many surface entrances, but all downward paths led to one, the Grand Promenade, the walkway that divided the City in two and led straight to the palace gates. The Old Road ended in a gaping hole in the rock; at its tallest, the entrance was as high as the palace itself. Made eons ago by Titan, he had forged the metal gateway that held the Road open. Were the metal to be removed, the stone would reform into a solid wall and passages to and from the City would be closed as if they had never existed at all.

  The caves along the Old Road were dark, guarded, and deadly. Since the purge began, less than ten thousand refugees had come to the City from the Old Road and humans had followed none. A force of City Guard stood at the entrance nonetheless. They were the elite, the most deadly Lilliam, ready to die if an invasion occurred, but only dank air breathed back and forth from the entrance.

  The Lilliam that fled into the City largely came through the second outpost portals that lined the Grand Promenade. Medics were on hand, waiting for the tired, hungry, and wounded Lilliam that had been pouring in over the last two days. Those with injuries were guided to the light places, the warm and welcoming pools of water and stone, the palace itself.

  Only ten blue-hued portals remained open now. Wounded Lilliam came through in a trickle, their faces and bodies showing the horrors they’d experienced to get there. The King and Queen waited by the portals with their sons. Eleven princes had yet to return. The King closed his eyes and sent a warning pulse, a message that the portals were closing imminently. They could not risk infiltration.

  Varen flew through one portal. Still weak from his fight with the angel Genon, he had grown weaker from numerous new injuries. He fell to the floor. His body flickered with his own fire, his sword broken at the hilt. No Guard followed him. He struggled to stand on his own. “France is not clear.” The portal closed behind him. A brother helped him to the Promenade, and he waited with his family in silence.

  A rush of insect, chitenous Lilliam flew through a portal, and Madog, one of the youngest princes, dropped in after them. “Japan clear.” He turned back to the portal and closed it with a wave of his hand. He turned to them, his dragonfly wings shredded, his armor pierced and scored. He bled from iron-tainted wounds. A metallic blue beetle dropped out of the air, picked him up, and hauled the prince to the palace for treatment.

  Water rushed through another portal and splashed the stone walkway. The Queen looked over and the area beneath the portal morphed into an expansive pool. A slew of selkies burst through in a rush of seawater. The twin princes Soren and Regis followed, brilliantly blue and wet. They shook their heads, gills closing as they switched over to breathing air. Soren ripped a propeller blade from Regis’ back and handed him off to a medic. He nodded to his father and mother. “The North Sea, English Channel, and the Olde Isles, clear.” The portal closed.

  Armored wolves jumped through the next open portal, changing to men and women as they tumbled through. More than one fell down dead on the stone floor. Prince Grendel stepped through. He carried those too injured to walk; his massive frame supported their dead weight. He opened his mouth to speak, but passed out. The wolf at his feet spoke for him, “Eastern Europe clear, we think.” Their portal closed.

  Satyrs rushed through another portal. Their battle partners, Nymphs, raced alongside their mates, their weapons drawn and bloody. Centaurs barreled through after them, slinging arrows back the way they had come. One stopped and saluted his mother and father. “The Mediterranean is not clear, but we could hold out no longer.”

  The King nodded. “You did the best you could, Chiron. The others can take the Old Road.”

  Pale, wraithlike purple-eyed men, women, and children hiked through their portal. Ice and cold came through with them. The wraiths bowed to the King and Queen and continued their stoic trek. The creatures of the Great North had not been harried or attacked as those in the more temperate climes. A tall, black and white man stepped through last. He looked over his shoulder and shut the gate. “Arctic clear.”

  Rainbow-feathered Lilliam dropped through one of the remaining four portals. They were missing feathers and splattered in slurry of rock, but they managed to fly over the heads of those watching. Flying fairy medics trailed them, catching those that could no longer keep to the air. The youngest of the Lilliam princes was close behind, his rainbow-sheen armor tarnished and blood stained. Idris saluted his parents. “Australia and the Southern Seas are cleared.”

  Golden men the size of children fell onto the Grand Promenade from one of the last three portals. They tumbled into one another, their clockwork parts clanging and rolling away. They shook themselves off and nodded to the royalty. They followed the rainbow Lilliam towards the palace. An androgynous redhead with olive-colored skin stepped out of the portal after them. He tracked the clockwork men and followed behind them, picking up the gears they dropped. “Amazon is clear.” The prince fell in line with his brothers, arms full of clockwork pieces.

  Swearing that could curl hair burst forth from the second to last portal. Dwarves were pushed through. They hit the ground and rounded on the portal, determined to run back with weapons drawn and shields up. A stick thin boy beat them back with a metal pole. “We are retreating. That is an order! Back off!” The portal closed behind him. “Can’t go back now!” Petris barely looked at his parents. “East Coast North America is cleared enough. I said enough!” Prince Petris swiped at the dwarves.

  Everyone’s eyes turned to the last portal, glowing blue in the air. Debris and smoke billowed through. The Lilliam took a step back.

  Lucifer, Berith, and Nodin fell through the portal and hit the floor of the Grand Promenade. They cartwheeled for yards before coming to a stop. Everyone went to their knees at the sight of Lucifer and Berith.

  Nodin coughed and sat up. “West Coast North America is not clear. Expect many refugees on the Old Road.”

  Lucifer shrugged Berith off him. He set his jaw against the pain and took the hand that Nodin offered to him. “Take me to her.”

  The Queen swept past her husband and embraced Lucifer. “We’ve heard rumor of your injuries, come with me.” She helped him up.

  Behind him, Nodin and Berith faced the royalty. Berith bowed to the King. “Appleadris stayed behind as Fury. I could not get her to fol
low.”

  The King looked grim. “Then she has chosen her own course, and if we see her again we shall rejoice, but for now, we pull back.” As he spoke, the last portal closed. The blue light that covered the Promenade went out leaving it lit only with tiny glow lamps.

  Lucifer nodded to the princes and leaned on his great granddaughter as they walked towards the palace. “Take me to Dahlia before the healer.”

  The Queen stopped. “She has not arrived. We wait on the Old Road.” She pointed towards the rows of guards that stood between the Promenade and the gaping, unlit caves that led to the surface.

  Lucifer turned back to Berith. “You liar! SHE IS NOT HERE!” His voice ripped across the cavern and echoed. Lilliam froze for miles; they ducked their heads on reflex. Lucifer stood straight despite the pain that tore at his insides. “If she were with Andrealphus they would be here! The Old Road is a short walk for him. Something has happened!”

  Berith did not know what to say. The Queen held Lucifer gently. “We will send search parties up the Road. You must come. Your injury is grave.”

  Lucifer struggled against her. “I will look for her myself, Daphne.”

  The King left his sons and took Lucifer’s other arm. “No.”

  Lucifer snarled at him. “Do not disobey me, Morgan!”

  Queen Daphne pressed her hands to his face. “Great Grandpa, you are not in your right mind. You burn with fever and pain.”

  Berith came up behind Lucifer and lifted him off his feet. “Listen to them.”

  “No! Let me go!” Lucifer punched Berith, throwing the giant to the ground. He ripped himself out of the arms of the King and Queen and clutched his chest. His wound ate away at more flesh; his skin visibly steamed. Blue fire raced along his body. “I have to find her!” He took a pained step towards the Old Road, then another. His vision doubled and he stumbled.

  Ice and grass rippled out from the spot behind Lucifer. A woman of green and blue formed in the air. She watched him.

  Lucifer turned. “Ceres, help me leave.”

  Ceres smiled kindly. “Grandpa, you are not well.”

  Lucifer swayed. He lost feeling in his limbs. “I need her, Ceres.”

  Ceres wrapped her arms around him. Her icy skin drew out the heat in his. “I know. But you need to get better first. You are far worse than I thought.”

  “I am fine!” Lucifer pushed himself away from her. “I am strong!”

  “We know you’re strong, but you’re hurt and we all need you to be healthy.” She lifted him off the ground. “If you do not heal now, you will lose your heart and possibly this body. You will not be a physical creature anymore. You will not be able to stay here. You will not be here for the Mother when she comes.”

  Lucifer sagged and stared into the opalescent eyes of his granddaughter. “Something must be wrong, I must help her.”

  Ceres smiled. “Let someone else help for once, stop carrying everything on your shoulders.” She enveloped him in ice. The fire on his skin died and his eyelids closed. She glanced at the King and Queen. “I need my cousins, immediately, I cannot do this alone. Summon them, Morgan.”

  The King bowed. “Yes, Mother.”

  The air around her blurred and Ceres moved through the palace into the Sanctuary. The Sanctuary was a small round room hidden in the center of the palace. The room was sparse; its only furniture was a raised dais in the center. Two doors broke up the mirror smooth walls. One door led in from the palace, it was closed, long unused. The other door was fused into the stone and remained ever locked, behind it was the heart of the City and no one entered there.

  The Sanctuary throbbed with energy, glowing as Ceres and Lucifer appeared. She positioned his body on the dais and unwrapped his wounds. She hissed at the sight of scorched flesh. Ceres, mother of summer and winter, poured the strength of both seasons into his limbs. The dais iced over, keeping his body cold and putting him into stasis. She sat on the ground and waited for the others.

  A blast of sunshine and Phoenix appeared, her body in constantly changing colored light. She saw Lucifer and trembled. “The Spear of Light makes me hate the duty I bear.”

  Ceres clucked her tongue. “You should be proud to carry on as the Light Bringer. Sit with me.” She patted the place by her side.

  Her younger cousin sat down and brought her knees to her chest. “He looks worse than what we were told of the time before.”

  Ceres nodded. “It is worse.”

  Hephaestus stepped out of the wall, and Thanatos followed on his heels. Hephaestus nodded to his cousins and took up vigil around his grandfather. Thanatos leaned over Lucifer, keeping physical decay at bay.

  Neptune came in a breeze of mist; Agni in a burst of flame.

  Shalim appeared in a veil of shadows and voices. He looked around for his twin. “Where is Spider?”

  Ceres concentrated on Lucifer. “She has not made her presence known. Set is also not here.”

  “Am now.” The dark-skinned boy arrived in miniature storms. “I will find Spider.” He blinked out of existence.

  The cousins focused their attention on Lucifer. Along the dais, imbedded stones glowed with their energy. Outside the room, the City lights fluctuated. Millions of Lilliam took up vigil in their homes, in the streets, and in the makeshift medical centers that covered the miles of cavern. They gave their energy to the earth and through the earth to the gods that surrounded Lucifer.

  The Lilliam waited and prayed.

  ***

  Thursday

  Dahlia came out of her nightmares into regular sleep. The pain had not been as bad; the cold had come and gone. For the first time in her unbroken prison, Dahlia had been held. A presence stayed and comforted her, blocked the pain and made her know not to give up. She knew it was Furcas, but did not know why or how. He had stayed with her until the nightmare ended.

  Consciousness brought a new form of pain and worry. It was the sore feeling of bruises and pulled muscles, of sitting in the wrong position for hours. She was on her stomach, face down; her hands were pulled behind her back. A warm body covered her and pressed her into hard concrete. Her eyes were gummy, her mouth swollen and dry; her face was cut where she’d been struck with the gun. She wrinkled her nose until her eyes came unstuck. She opened one eye, then another.

  Whitney breathed into her ear. “Don’t move, Dahlia.”

  Dahlia looked up at Whitney. Her friend was pale, her face bruised and crusted with dried blood. Whitney looked at the floor as if asleep. A door opened and closed out of their sight. Whitney opened her eyes all the way; her lips touched Dahlia’s ear. “We have three guards, but they’re out for the moment. I’d get off you but we’re tied together. We’re in some kind of cage cell thing. Can you move at all?”

  Dahlia nodded and flinched at the pain. She felt along the length of biting plastic that bound her to Whitney. They were dressed; Dahlia still wore her pendant and bracelets. She swallowed. “They’ve left us alone?”

  “For now.”

  “How is your leg?”

  “I can tolerate it. It’s not that bad compared…” Whitney closed her eyes. “They’ve done…things to the others. Things that make my injury look like a scratch.” She gagged and couldn’t continue.

  Dahlia rotated her shoulders slowly and moved her neck. She looked around for the first time. Half of her line of sight was concrete, broken by metal bars imbedded in the floor. They were on one end of a narrow room, situated by the door the guards had gone out of. She shifted and looked down her nose. Nukka’s face stared back at her…blank, dead, and not attached to the rest of her. Dahlia’s eyes flicked up. An operating table sat against the opposite wall and dripped clotting blood. Nukka’s arms and legs were wrapped in plastic and tagged. Her organs were in stages of being measured and put into containers. Dahlia’s stomach churned, but she was too weak to vomit.

  Whitney squeezed her. “Breathe. Do not scream. They don’t know we’re awake yet.”

  Dahlia had no desire to scream
. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Nukka’s face. The nausea faded, replaced with guilt. “This is my fault.”

  Somewhere towards her feet, low sobs started up.

  Whitney cringed. “Shh, baby.”

  Helion tore at his hair. “I am so sorry, Andy! I couldn’t control myself! What have I caused? Andy, I’m sorry!” Helion’s voice cracked, raw from talking for hours.

  Dahlia shifted slowly to turn and look at the fallen angel. Helion sat unbound on the concrete. His eyes locked on something on the shadowed side of the room. Heat wafted from that direction with a strange smell, but the area was dark and indistinct.

  Whitney’s voice was fast and sharp, “Do not look that way anymore.”

  Dahlia searched her friend’s eyes. “Why?”

  Whitney blinked back tears. “Just don’t, Dahlia.”

  Clicking drew Dahlia’s gaze back to the dark area and Helion. Helion’s sobs began anew. “Andrealphus, I’m so sorry!”

  The clicking stopped. Flames erupted from the floor. A dark mass lay in the middle of the inferno.

  Dahlia felt as if her air had been sucked away. “Andy!”

  Fire had eaten away his clothes, hair, and skin. Dahlia watched as another round of timed flame scorched away the bits that had healed. She pushed at the ground, but Whitney held her still. Dahlia whispered, “Why can’t he escape?”

  “They have him chained inside a metal circle.”

  Dahlia’s mind raced. “Draw it.”

  Whitney bent her nose to the floor and made a rough sketch out of blood and dirt. She looked at her own design. “I can’t do the squiggles without my fingers.”

  Dahlia did not need to see the details. “It’s a seal, or a summoning circle.” She closed her eyes recalling the passages that went along with it. “We need to break the line.”

  “It’s imbedded in the floor. The flames are coming up from the bottom of it; it’s like a metal grate or something.”

  The fire died. Andy’s head wobbled. Helion trembled. “Andy. I’m so sorry!”