by Silver, Anna
She scratched miserably at her puffy, left hand, fat with swelling from the two stings it suffered. Dirt caked under her nails and London groaned. Three white stripes, swiftly turning to a glowing pink, were revealed beneath the layer of dirt.
“Stop scratching,” Tora nagged.
“I know, I know. I keep forgetting,” London defended herself. As strained and tender as the flesh near her stings was, the itch was a million times worse.
She was lucky though. Only last night they’d thought she was a goner. They’d dashed from one patch of grass to the next, making their way toward a large mesa with ragged, stacked walls in the distance. The in between was slow and risky, unprotected as they were in the open range. All the while, London could feel her chest growing tighter, her breaths more labored. Her stomach was knotted painfully and the cough was getting worse, but she pressed on. Tora struggled with Kim, supporting him partially under one shoulder as they ran together up ahead, a three-legged shadow in front of her.
She thought she was going to make it. The jagged edges of the mesa they were aiming for loomed up in her field of vision, but as soon as it had, they blurred and faded and London knew all too well what was happening. Her head swam and her tongue felt thick as cotton in her mouth. She tried to call out to Tora and Kim but the sound of engines in the distance, drawing closer, drowned her out. Her voice had grown too faint for even her own ears. When she went down, she figured it was the end of the road for her.
She dimly remembered the tug on her arms as Tora dragged her into the sheltering shadow of the slope, and the feeling that her shoulders might just dislodge beneath the strain. But even that was fuzzy around the edges, as though she wasn’t sure if she was remembering or imagining it. There was only the incessant craving for air and the dry desert night in her throat as Tora held her mouth open and kept her tongue lolled to one side so she could continue to suck tiny, straw-thin, wisps of air into her burning lungs. In between her own desperate struggles to breathe, Tora would occasionally clamp her mouth over London’s and blow hard.
It eased, gradually. And the trucks never came near enough to spot them. Once she and Tora were certain she could breathe well enough again, she was allowed to sit up. Tora covered her in her reprocessed jacket and London slumped down on her shoulder and fell into a brief and fitful slumber until the Seer woke her a little while later, just as the sun prepared to crest the horizon and the predawn chill crept into the air.
They’d been moving ever since.
Now the fear of death had flown with the night’s moon, and with the sun came the swelling and the rash. Her middle fingers on her right hand throbbed with ever step and she could feel that her jaw jutted out strangely to one side where her cheek was swollen. Her shirt collar rubbed incessantly at her neck, close enough to the sting to make the itch there absolutely maddening. But every time she scratched, she wiped off more of the camouflaging mud and made them just a little more vulnerable to anyone looking for them.
Tora rolled her eyes at London. “After surviving last night, I am not about to let us get caught because of your itching,” she warned. “Cut. It. Out.”
In spite of herself, London smiled. Kim was dragging on the other side of the Seer, a little tired and a little weak, but gaining strength with every step. “Why don’t you pick on him? He’s nearly as useless as I am.”
Kim grinned at her. “Trust me,” he chimed in. “No one looks as bad as you do right now.”
London scowled, then laughed. She gave Tora a serious look. “You saved my life. Don’t think I’ll forget that.”
Tora shrugged. “And you saved Kim’s. Everybody’s a hero.”
“Where’d you learn how to do that,” London asked. “The breathing and everything.”
Tora flushed a little, the color springing up around her eyes where the mud didn’t reach. “I spent quite a bit of time with Abigail at the camp. She taught me a few things.”
“And the swimming?” London asked.
Tora smiled, mud cracking around her mouth. “There was a lake we visited sometimes in the summer when it would get real hot. It was worth the trek to spend a day cooling off in that water. The mosquitoes were insane there though. We’d always come back covered in welts.”
Tora eyed London then, her eyes narrowing. “What about you? How’d you learn?”
“I didn’t,” London said with a shrug. “I guess Si’dah did.”
“Can’t say the same for Atel,” Kim cracked and they all laughed a little.
“I think…I think it was also her in the Bayou Camp. When I, uh, stabbed Clark. I think she kind of took over,” London confessed.
“Well,” Kim said, kicking at a tuft of vegetation as they passed, “be sure and give her our thanks. You saved all our asses back there.”
Not all, London thought with a pang of loss in her heart for Zen. But she smiled at Kim again, whose black eyes and mud-paste face made her think of Elias. “I wonder what happened to him?” she said aloud.
Kim and Tora blinked at her from their sun-baked desert masks.
“I saw Elias shift,” she explained. “Just before I ran back into the room. He shifted into a bee so the regiments couldn’t arrest him.”
“I thought he said that was dangerous?” Kim replied.
“Yeah well, so was the alternative. Some risks are worth taking,” London told him.
“We’ll have to get some rest tonight. Maybe we can look for him in the Astral. Make sure he’s okay and find out what he knows about Zen,” Tora suggested.
London agreed, her own words still trailing through her mind. Some risks are worth taking…
* * *
THAT NIGHT THEY settled into a small wedge shaped cleft in the bottom of a lonely mesa to get a few hours sleep. London warped them each a few handfuls of water until Kim could do it for himself and they all took a few spoonfuls of honey and a biscuit. Her stomach was raw with hunger and it took all the self-control she had not to dive back into the pack for more food. They needed to conserve what they had as much as possible. She’d warped water already, so it wasn’t so difficult. But warping food was something else altogether. And without the urgency of her emotions to feed it, her power seemed much more difficult to access. She was determined to work on it tomorrow while they traveled. But just in case it didn’t work, she would leave them enough to get through another day without keeling over from starvation.
Sleep found her quickly, and the Astral even faster than that. She didn’t have to stride across the Midplane on her long, lean legs to find the grove. Si’dah simply opened her eyes and found herself standing among the stones. Whether it was the Astral, herself, or London who understood and was responsible for making sure she wasn’t caught outside the protection of the Circle, she wasn’t sure, but she was grateful nonetheless.
Hantu was waiting. “I sensed you coming. I’ve made the call,” he said, his hazel gaze registering the burden of her message as he looked her over.
“We were ambushed,” she said. “They have Zen. If Avery lets him in the Astral at all, it will only be under her watch. More than likely, she’s devised some way to lock him out.”
Hantu nodded as Tora and Atel strode toward them, hands clasped fast.
“If she lets him live,” Tora added and Si’dah had to look away, for fear they’d notice the tears welling in her eyes.
Serene and Shey joined them in the grove, filling their stone seats eagerly. But Ell-Adalese never materialized. Her stone sat starkly empty next to Elias’s.
Si’dah eyed both seats speculatively, but there was no time to ponder the variable heart of a dreamwalker like Ell-Adalese. However, if Elias hadn’t joined them, something was wrong. They had lost not one but two allies in the Tycoon’s raid at Mesa Camp.
“He’s missing. Why?” Serene asked bluntly with a nod to Elias’s seat.
“I thought you said we could trust him,” Shey’s voice quivered.
“We can,” Si’dah insisted. “There’s some kind
of problem.”
As quickly as they could, she, Atel, and Tora filled the others in on what had transpired at the Beekeeper’s home and since. But when she spoke about Elias shifting, she saw confusion wash over Serene’s bright expression and Shey’s form trembled with apprehension.
“This is something unknown to us,” Serene commented when they were finished. “This shift.”
“Yes,” Si’dah agreed. “To us too, before Elias explained it. But not to Avery. I mean, Eclipse. She, like Elias, seems to know things we don’t.” Again, her eyes wandered to Ell-Adalese’s open seat. Where was the royal pain?
“I am afraid we can be of little help to you then,” Hantu said with a sigh. “It seems all those who can speak of such things are missing from our Circle.” Now his eyes seemed to stray over the empty stones, wondering.
Did Ell-Adalese know more than she let on? But how could she know about something like shifting? That required the Sacrifice. One had to be Otherborn to master something of that nature. However questionable her intentions, it was doubtful she could be as much a traitor or a threat as Avery had become.
Elias’s words snaked across time to reach her once again. The answers you seek cannot be found in this world. Follow the way to the center and find the one who birthed you in the Other. It was from her reading, from the Oracle.
Si’dah straightened and looked at those still surrounding her. “You’re right. Under these circumstances, there is little you can do to help. But I know someone who can.” Someone who knew the truth about Ell-Adalese long before I did. Someone who probably knows much more about the Astral than she ever told me.
Hantu blinked. “Who?”
“My mentor,” Si’dah told him.
Suddenly, a gusty whirr sounded nearby and it took Si’dah a moment to realize it was Atel’s peculiar laughter. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Your mentor went to the Highplane long ago. She is beyond your reach,” he croaked. The bark-like skin of his face had smoothed and he’d grown taller since she saw him last, his shell of branches morphing into more of an armor now, rising up off his shoulders like wicked epaulets. His eyes were cut like slashes in his face, but they still twinkled with the green she’d always known.
“I have made the journey before,” Si’dah said, remembering how she’d sought her mentor’s counsel before making the Great Sacrifice. “I can do it again.”
“Once I would have believed that,” Atel replied. “But we’ve lost too much of our old wisdom in this transition. How will you find the Highplane now, with the Other dragging you down?”
Si’dah knew there was truth in his words, but she could not allow doubt to restrain her. “I have seen many things I never dreamed possible, and I believe very little is beyond my reach now. I will make my way to the Highplane and seek my mentor’s counsel, however difficult the journey. Elias told Hantu it can be done, and so it shall be.”
Hantu’s face looked grim and Atel had ceased laughing. Shey was little more than a tremoring shadow and Serene’s light buzzed with worry. Only Tora looked convinced of what Si’dah had said.
“B-but how?” Hantu stammered at last.
Si’dah turned her coal black eyes on him and rose to her full height. “I will catch an Astral tide. My eyes will show me the way.”
Chapter 23
* * *
The Far Shore
ONCE SHE’D MADE up her mind, there was no time to waste. Si’dah sloughed off the protests of her companions and stalked out of the grove without a second thought. Let Avery know what she was up to. Let them try to follow her. Some risks are worth taking. Elias had taught her that. She’d been playing it safe for far too long. What she needed now, more than her own wisdom, more than the Circle’s protection, was a little bit of London’s gumption.
Atel and Tora vowed to travel with her as far as they reasonably could, but they would not tempt the tide…if she managed to find it. Striking out in whatever direction struck her as most appropriate—for how does one find the center of an infinite plane?—she’d walked with her friends a tremendous distance, though there was little to truly judge it by. At last, she began to become aware that this was something she needed to do alone. The Astral would not allow her to arrive at the tides if she didn’t show the courage necessary.
Si’dah stopped and sighed deeply. She turned to Tora and Atel with a weary expression. “My friends, your end has come. You must leave me here and depart for the grove once more. I must…carry on alone.”
Tora and Atel shared a knowing look. “Are you sure?” Tora asked her.
Si’dah nodded. “Positive. I can feel it in my very bones. The Astral thrums with anticipation, but the door will not be open to me unless I stand before it alone. That’s what the Beekeeper meant when he said. Follow the way to the center… The center of the Astral is the center of ourselves. We could walk forever and arrive nowhere. I must find my own center to find where the tides dwell, but I must journey alone. It is not a path anyone else can follow.”
Atel nodded and placed a weathered hand on her shoulder. “Travel well, my friend. And return to us when you have found the answers you seek.”
To her surprise, the Seer caught her up in a fast embrace. “Be safe,” she whispered in her ear. Then, she slid the red string with three knots from her wrist. “Take this,” she offered, sliding it over Si’dah’s graceful fingers. “It is all I can send with you.”
Si’dah looked at the little knotted string and her heart swelled. “It is enough,” she said quietly, returning Tora’s hug.
She stood there, watching their shadows fade from view, watching until only the verdant Midplane meadows filled her vision. Then, with a heavy heart but a little thrill as well, she turned and walked away, carrying on in the same direction they had been until the Astral gave her the signal that she had traveled far enough.
THE FIRST SIGN was the wind. It began as a barely perceptible tickle of air and grew into a playful current, whipping around her and tugging at her skirts, drawing her forward, deeper and deeper into herself. Si’dah was only beginning to understand, but the revelation teased at her like the wind. The Astral was not some place outside of her. Some outward destination. She was not in the Astral at all. The Astral was in her.
As this understanding bloomed in her mind like a bold and fragrant flower, the wind picked up until it was gusting, sending her skirts billowing out like the sails of great ships, battering her with enormous, invisible paws and a strength that made it difficult even to stand. More than once Si’dah stumbled, catching herself with her long fingers and righting herself again, determined to carry on. Every time she stood back up, she felt London glowing within her, pushing her, chiding her like the torrential wind all around. This was their center, the place where one began and the other ended, the place where they were joined. It would take both of them to get there, but Si’dah was certain now, that when she came back, if she came back, they would each be changed forever.
The second sign was the sand. By now the wind was howling like a great beast in her ears, filling her every cell with the intensity of its call. It made her eyes pour tears until she had to practically close them, squinting through wet lashes, narrowing her field of vision to blurry slits. She staggered against the tempest of herself as it tore at her but managed to keep putting one foot ahead of the other. When a massive squall of air forced her to her knees, she felt the coarse, loose grains between her fingers and knew something had changed.
Kneeling, Si’dah tore at her topmost skirt until a long piece came free in her fist. This she wrapped over her head for a little protection and opened her eyes wide again for the first time. Beneath her she saw the crystalline sands as they spread under her weight, rising around her knees in glimmering whorls as the wind caught at the grains and whipped them into a frenzy. It was a marvel, but one she did not have time to contemplate. She was in a new plane, a much deeper one than she’d ever known. But she needed to keep moving. The tides had no
t presented themselves yet. The only way to her mentor and the Highplane was forward.
Si’dah pushed herself up and continued, leaning headlong into the wind and bracing herself against it, for its course was now stronger against her than with her. Its push greater than its pull.
She stumbled on, her thin scarf strapped over her head and held fast across her mouth, feeling the sting of sand as it grated at her exposed skin. But she had no care for it. Whatever it peeled away was only what she didn’t need, this she was certain of.
The third and final sign was the water. The rhythmic sound of it cutting through the gale. Then, the sparkle of it in the distance piercing her eyes, like a lake of liquid jewels. And finally, the feel of it as she broke through the front that had slowed her, tried to hold her back, to the shore. Cool, foamy waves coursed round her ankles as the wind, now resigned to her goal, finally died down, returning to a pleasant whisper in her ear and a soft caress against her cheek.
Si’dah removed the scarf from her head and let it drop and be pulled out into the retreating waters. She sunk to her knees in the shallows and felt the indigo waves as they splashed her arms and face. She sat back on her heels and took in the vast and infinite stretch of the horizon, her horizon. She could go anywhere from here. She could escape if she wanted. Leave London behind. Make for some distant world, some isolated plane she could keep to herself, with no enemies. No Tycoons. No conflicting emotions. A smile curled her perfect mouth.
She could never leave London behind. If this journey had taught her anything, it was this truth. This shore was as much London’s as hers. That horizon—London’s also. All that lay before her belonged not only to her, but to London as well. Because she was London and London was her. And they could never, ever exist apart from one another again.
Sure, she could go anywhere, but London would only follow her as only London could. And in truth, she didn’t want escape. She wanted answers. That’s what she had come for and that’s what she would get before she returned. Right now, there was only one place she wanted to go and that was the Highplane where her mentor now dwelled.