Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales)

by Freda Warrington

  A voice murmured deep in his brain, It is always like this.

  “Is it?” Mist said softly to himself. “We carry this chaos inside us?”

  His subconscious self was wiser. It commanded him to be quiet and watchful, to pay careful attention and to learn fast.

  He became aware of someone beside him: a woman who was silver from head to foot, with a halo of pale hair, a glint of white gold and pearls, a long thick coat of figured velvet trimmed with white fur: Juliana Flagg, an angel in a dream.

  He opened his eyes and she was really there.

  Consciousness came as a violent shock. His last memory was of lying on concrete beneath a bridge, engine noise growling above, a fog of foul smells enveloping him. Now he was on a bed, walled in by blue curtains. Bright lights dazzled him and he heard a buzz of activity in the background. Juliana leaned towards him, her aged yet beautiful face alight with amazement. He caught the warm, powdery fragrance of her velvet coat.

  “Adam?” she said softly. “Oh my god, is it really you? I can’t believe this.”

  “Juliana.”

  His voice was a rasp. Her eyes widened as he spoke. “You recognize me?” Her fingertips pressed his cheekbone, as if touch was more certain than sight. “I’ve been sitting here for an hour, so I’ve had a very thorough look at your face, but I still can’t comprehend … Adam, what happened? We saw you die.”

  He glanced around. This was a much brighter, stranger place than the grim wards that human Adam remembered, nearly a century earlier. “Is this a hospital?”

  “Yes, you’re in the Acute Admissions Unit. Next step up from Accident and Emergency.” She looked at him with grave, concerned eyes. “Oh, my dear boy, what a state you’re in. Whatever happened?”

  Everything and nothing, he thought. This was all wrong. He should not be in hospital because he was Aelyr, indestructible. Juliana was in the past, so she shouldn’t be here, either. All wrong.

  “Well, let me tell you what I know,” she said when he didn’t speak. “Yesterday I received a phone call from this hospital. A young man had been found unconscious in the middle of Glasgow. This city sadly has its share of homeless people, and one of them called an ambulance for you; I wish I could have thanked him, but he was long gone. You had no identification on you. You were wet through, dressed in rags and a stinking old jacket. At first the doctors thought you’d been attacked, but they found no injuries, no drugs or alcohol in your blood. They concluded you’d collapsed with hypothermia. You were a mystery. However, while you were half-conscious, you kept saying my name and mentioning Cairndonan House. So the hospital staff found my number and telephoned me. It took me half the night to get here, but here I am.”

  “You should not have come,” he whispered.

  “Why not? Who else would have come to look after you?”

  “I don’t need looking after.”

  She gave a short laugh. “You were brought in half-dead! And I’ve spent all this time thinking you were genuinely dead! How could I not come?”

  He shifted in the bed, trying to prop himself upright. They’d dressed him in a hospital gown and there was a silvery blanket over him. Juliana plumped up the pillows to help him. He had a flashback to Cairndonan House, of Adam lying in bed because—confused—he’d tried to hurl himself through a window. Mist looked down at his palms, which had been badly cut. There were no scars now. The skin had healed smooth.

  “You look as if you need food,” she said. There was an awkward pause. “This is beyond strange—but then, so many strange things happened at Cairndonan, I shouldn’t be surprised. You do remember me, and what happened there?”

  “As if through a veil, yes.”

  “Good. That’s a relief. So, the tide washed you up and you walked away…?”

  “Something like that.” The understatement made him smile.

  “How long have you been sleeping rough?’

  He was puzzled. “I wasn’t sleeping rough. I was walking. I don’t remember collapsing.”

  “Well, I’m extremely curious to know how you’re even still alive. Oh, my dear boy. You were shot through the chest by a raving madman who was actually aiming at Rufus. For good measure, you fell a hundred feet onto rocks and were swept away into a stormy sea. And yet you survived?”

  It was time to tell her.

  “No. Adam died. I am Mistangamesh.” The last word was a whisper. “Mist.”

  “Ah.” She released a long, quiet sigh. “That was the name of Rufus’s long-lost brother.”

  “Yes. That’s who I am.”

  Juliana looked keenly at him, her head tilted, as if trying to work out if he was telling the truth or plain mad. “Are you saying that Rufus was right about you?”

  “He didn’t understand that Adam had to die before Mist could wake up. Or realize that he had to let me go before I could return. I was deep in the ocean but I swam back to shore. Then I climbed up the cliffs and began to walk southwards.”

  “How long were you walking?’

  “I’m not sure. Two or three days.”

  “Without stopping to rest or eat?”

  “A truck driver gave me a lift and shared his food. When he dropped me at the edge of the city, I began to walk again.”

  “Where were you going?”

  “Towards London.”

  She was staring at him, aghast. “Do you realize how far— You set out to walk several hundred miles from the wilds of Scotland with no help, no money, nothing? What were you thinking? Oh, dear god, Adam. Mist, I mean. Has rebirth made you insane?”

  “I am Aelyr. I thought I’d left behind all human needs.”

  “Obviously not. Are Aetherials, excuse the pun, superhuman? Are you a god of some sort, who never gets tired or hungry, never needs to sleep?”

  Her questions threw him. He considered his answer. “I never claimed we were gods. We change between different states … but when we’re in physical form, yes, we need food and rest eventually.”

  “Yet you somehow forgot this, did you?”

  “It seems so.”

  “Well, you’re an idiot!”

  Mist laughed. She was right. Finally it dawned on him that he had been out of his mind. “I thought I was indestructible. I’m ashamed to discover, after all, that I’m as weak as any human.”

  “Don’t knock humans,” she replied tartly. “You’d be surprised what we can endure.”

  Her words reminded him that he’d no idea what harm Rufus might have done after Adam’s demise. Alarmed, he touched her forearm. “Where’s Rufus now?”

  “Oh, he’s long gone. Don’t worry, he’s not with me!” Juliana shrugged. The gesture was slight, but soaked with contempt. “He ran away, vanished over the horizon.”

  “He didn’t hurt anyone?”

  “Oh, no, my dear, not at all.” She covered his hand with hers, reassuring him. “After you, or rather after Adam died, Rufus went to pieces. He was insane with grief and no threat to anyone, so I let him stay for a few days. Then he perked up. Grief turned into anger, perhaps. He stole a car and off he went in a spray of gravel and exhaust fumes, sticking up a finger at the rest of us. Haven’t seen him since, don’t want to.”

  Mist sighed. He was trying to clear his mind, to engage with the new reality he’d entered. “So he’s been gone for … a few days? Perhaps a week, at most?”

  Juliana gave him a measured stare. “My dear, those events didn’t happen last week. They happened over two years ago.”

  * * *

  Some hours later, they were sitting in a coffee shop in the center of Glasgow, as crowds of shoppers passed the windows. Already the sky was growing dark again, but the streets were bright with Christmas lights, strings of sparkling red and gold stars.

  Juliana had gone out and bought Mist some new clothes: underwear, black trousers and T-shirts, a dark grey sweater and a warm, waterproof jacket, sturdy black boots. The doctors had wanted to keep him for a day or two. He’d discharged himself against their advice. They
wouldn’t understand that, despite everything, his Aelyr flesh would heal fast.

  Once he’d consumed soup, toasted sandwiches, a large chocolate muffin and half of Juliana’s too, he felt … well, “human again” wasn’t quite the phrase, but substantially better. They sat facing each other, cradling fresh mugs of coffee.

  “Two years?” he said.

  “Nearly two and a half.”

  “It seemed only days … It was like a dream, though. Time can’t be relied on when you’re part-elemental and in the Dusklands.”

  “You must be in shock,” said Juliana. “Nearly as much as I am, finding you alive.”

  “Gill and Peta … they were such dear friends to me. Are they still with you?”

  She waved a hand. “Goodness, no. They buggered off backpacking together. But you were missed. Gill said something very telling: that she couldn’t stay at Cairndonan because, if she did, she’d always be watching the sea.”

  Mist felt a pang of human regret, so intense it stole his breath. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have wished that on her … She and Adam…” He had to stop until the pain abated. Softly he went on, “But I’m not him anymore. So please don’t tell her, or anyone, that you’ve seen me.”

  “I understand.”

  “It could be worse. I might have lost twenty years. I wonder what Rufus is doing?” Pushing aside any tender thoughts of Gill, Mist focused on his brother. “I need to know where he is.”

  “Well, I didn’t report the car stolen because we were so glad to see the back of him. He could be anywhere.” She touched his hand. Her fingers felt hot on his skin. “My dear, I’m sure you’re safe. He thinks you’re dead. He has no reason to return to Scotland.”

  “He’d head to the capital.” Mist smiled sourly. “He always liked crowds, places of power. Extremes of poverty and wealth. They were his playgrounds.”

  “London has a population of roughly ten million people. Plenty to play with. Or he could have even more fun in New York, Tokyo…”

  “I know, but London is somewhere to start looking.” A shudder of fear went through him. So it began again, his never-ending duel with his brother.

  “Are you sure you want to find him?” Juliana was a graceful figure, a goddess carved from silver-grey marble. Human, yet something more. “I’m confused. All the time you, and/or Adam, were with him, Mist was dormant. As if you were so hell-bent on not letting Rufus win, you’d rather stay ‘dead’ than let him think he’d found you. You said yourself that you reawakened only when he was safely out of the way. Yet now you want to go looking for him?”

  “I don’t want to. I have to.”

  “Why?”

  His fingertips padded softly on the tabletop. “Wherever he goes, there is trouble and pain and death. I need to stop him.”

  She swallowed. “I must admit, things were somewhat interesting while he was on the scene. Do you remember the trial?”

  Mist nodded. Certain Aetherials had tried to convict Rufus for crimes against both his own race and mortals. They’d failed. Her words woke images of a vast black chamber, a jury of near-invisible figures. Lord Albin of Sibeyla, owl-white in the darkness, was the keenest prosecutor … but Albin had been thwarted. “It was a joke. Even the Spiral Court couldn’t pin him down. Rufus escaped Aelyr justice and now he can’t be touched. He must think he’s invincible.”

  “A frightening thought, but … you should know that all the fight went out of him when he lost Adam. Taking the car was bravado. I think what I’m trying to say is this.” She chopped at the table with the edges of both hands. “You had your brother there, right in front of you, for years on end. He held you, or rather, a person he thought was you, prisoner. Now that you’ve managed to break free, why on earth would you seek him out again?”

  Mist sank back in his chair. “Because the game isn’t over yet. Yes, he imprisoned me, but I wasn’t truly me at the time. Adam was powerless. Things are different now. Rufus has a mountain of debts to pay. Let him feel guilty about my death! He’s done far worse than kill me.”

  Juliana raised her eyebrows. “I’ve heard of sibling rivalry, but this is ridiculous. So what is it now, your turn to kill him?”

  “Oh, I wish I could turn away and forget him, but I can’t. I want the upper hand this time. I’ll be watching him from the shadows, but he’ll never know I’m there.”

  “But how on earth do you ever expect to find him?”

  “In the past, wherever we were, we always found each other in the end.”

  Juliana gave a slight shiver. “How?”

  “I don’t know. We were always both drawn to places where history was being made, or the world changing. We knew each other too well, or perhaps we were simply very predictable.”

  “I’d hardly call either of you predictable.” She gazed at passersby in the street for a few moments, then turned to him again. “Look, here’s a radical thought. How would it be if you let this go? Travel, or settle somewhere, or return to the Otherworld, whatever makes you happy—but forget your brother. Live your own life.”

  Mist laughed. “That sounds tempting. Don’t think I haven’t thought of it.”

  “Is it impossible?”

  “Wherever I go, he’ll find me. That’s why I have to find him first. To end it.”

  Juliana gave him a long, wistful look. “At least stay a few days, first. You’re like a newborn seal. You’ve barely dried off.”

  “I can’t. And you shouldn’t have had to come and rescue me. Some Aetherial I’ve proved to be, unable to survive without human aid. I feel ashamed.”

  “Nonsense. There’s no shame in needing a little help. You can thank me by staying until you’re fully well. Couple of days’ rest in a decent hotel?”

  He shook his head. In his mind he saw mountains stretching away, roads stringing together villages, towns, cities … the idea of hunting Rufus through the world made him despair. No use resisting, though. The idea also held a strange thrill. “Sorry, Juliana, but I have to go.”

  Now she was exasperated. “And how far d’you think you’ll get with no money, no identification? You’ll need documents. Not being of criminal inclination, I don’t know how one goes about creating a false identity, but it can’t be that hard. You’ll need more clothes. Money. Look, I’ll lend you a credit card until we can get one in your name. And I’ll pay the balance each month, at least until you’re established.”

  Mist had learned what a credit card was when she’d used one to pay for their food. He shook his head. “I can’t take money from you!”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, pay me back when you can. Listen to me: You’ll get nowhere without cards and cash.”

  He groaned, knowing she was right. “Thank you. I wish I didn’t need such help, but I’m grateful. And I will pay you back.”

  “Damn right you will. So it’s settled. We need to get your paperwork sorted out, finances, a cell phone—”

  “A phone?”

  “Yes, so I can make contact in order to forward stuff to you, wherever you happen to be. You want to find Rufus, so I’m oiling the wheels. Hop on a train, and you can be in London in a few hours. After that, you’re on your own.”

  “I’m so grateful, Juliana.” An awkward silence fell for a moment. Then he looked up at her and said, “I feel foolish. The truth is, I don’t really know where or how to start searching.”

  “Well, there’s always the Internet,” Juliana said wryly.

  “The what?”

  “Come on, Mist. Even I have a creaky old computer. As Adam, you must have noticed. The side room with a collection of yellowing plastic boxes?”

  “No. That I don’t remember.” He smiled. “Still, I am a fast learner.”

  “I’m sure you are.” She reached into her bag and placed a shiny oblong device on the table. “Start learning.”

  “What’s this?”

  “This is me, entering the twenty-first century. It’s one of those tablet computer gadgets. You touch the screen and it tel
ls you what you want to know. Magic.”

  Mist stared at her in disbelief. Then a smile pulled at his mouth. Perhaps there would be sparks of wonder in the journey after all.

  “Honestly, it’s easy, even for someone of my great age. Look.”

  She powered up the device, and had to show him only once how to use the search engine. Mist was entranced by the small, glowing screen that could call up any part of the world, any piece of information, at the touch of a few keys.

  Hardly knowing how to start, he typed in his brother’s name; Rufus Dionys Ephenaestus. The result came at once.

  Your search did not match any documents.

  Entering his most recent assumed name, Rufus Hart, yielded 774,000 results.

  Mist sat back in his chair and laughed, causing people at the next table to look at him. Ignoring them, he tapped on some of the links, but found none that bore any relevance to his brother.

  “He wouldn’t use that name again, would he?” Juliana put in. She’d shifted her chair around to look over his shoulder.

  “Not Hart. But he nearly always used Rufus, as if he was winking at the world, saying, ‘I’m pretending to be someone else, but we all know who I really am.’”

  “I noticed that about him. He was proud of being infamous, didn’t even try to disguise himself. The way he brazened it out before the Spiral Court was quite breathtaking. You should have seen it! Oh … you did.”

  “Well, Adam was there, and I have all his memories.”

  “Of course. Try being more specific. Aelyr, or Aetherial?”

  He tried. Links to foreign language sites appeared for “Aelyr,” while “Aetherial” had over 30,000 results. Apparently it was too generic a word to be of much help. All it meant—according to an online dictionary he consulted—was “of the aether,” “pertaining to the higher regions beyond the Earth,” and “from the Greek verb, to blaze.”

  Mist sighed to himself. He continued entering every word or combination of terms he could think of. Azantios. Poectilictis. Theliome. Aurata. Places and people he had not seen for countless thousands of years.

  For “Aurata,” images of beetles, fish and caracal lynxes appeared. The name meant nothing more specific than “golden.” How had they spelled it, in the ancient days? That alphabet no longer existed. The language of Aelyr and Vaethyr alike had evolved along with the Earth and the humans who’d taken it over.